


Until the End of These Days

by TwoCatsTailoring



Series: The Lives Within [2]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Backstory, Canon Expansion, Chocobros - Freeform, Dudes Being Bros, F/M, Friendship, Gap Filler, Gen, Gladnis, M/M, Promptis - Freeform, Romance, Slice of Life, monicor, older bros, younger bros
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-08
Updated: 2017-10-18
Packaged: 2018-10-16 13:29:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 23
Words: 48,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10572288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TwoCatsTailoring/pseuds/TwoCatsTailoring
Summary: It was fate, they said. Prophecy, foretold, all decided without any input from anyone anywhere. Few choices but the path before them. But in the midst of fate there is always some choice in the small things. And the small things are what make lives worth living. This is a story about those small things and the lives they change.There is a guide to the various arcs and ships in the end notes. I hope that helps (cause not everyone turns up for the same things.)





	1. Prologue: Jealousy

**Author's Note:**

> This chapter is dedicated to Faren because she just *had* to say something about young Cor and young Monica.
> 
> Monica and Cor are both young and have a lot to learn about what it means to be 'good at what you do.' Until they get there sparks will fly.

Monica tucked a stray hair back behind her ear, head bent in determined concentration as she poured over the maps in front of her. This is what she did. This was who she was. There had to be a way, a spot, a hole somewhere that she’d just not seen yet. There always was on these tests, something tiny, some gap in a rock. A break in the line. Something.

She didn’t really register the classroom door opening or closing but it was almost impossible to ignore the gasps of her classmates, the hushed shock that rippled around the room. Almost, but she managed it.

There had to be a spot. Something she’d overlooked.

Her partner in the map project finally slapped her arm to get her attention and Monica scowled up as she hissed, “What?”

What, she quickly realized as her eyes followed all the others in the room to a spot just inside the door, was actually who. If it were possible to sprain one’s eyeballs, Monica would have been well on her way to medical with how hard and fast hers rolled in her head.

Sure, the fact that he’d actually come back at all was remarkable but the fact that he’d gone in the first place was what she was stuck on. It seemed to her that the stern denial of the faculty and the point blank orders of the King himself would have been enough to stop anyone from doing anything but no. His going was incomprehensible and that was all that her sensible, obedient fourteen years could see.

She turned back to her map. So what? Sword arm broken in three places, someone mentioned cracked ribs, someone else a dislocated shoulder. What else did he deserve for being so foolish as to run off, risking life and limb (and usefulness and future and privilege) to take on Gilgamesh? Honestly. He probably hadn’t even made it that far anyway. Probably fell off a cliff or something equally stupid.

Okay, so even Monica had to admit that was unfair. Yes, she hated him with every fiber of her being. Yes, he was the only thing standing between her and being the head of this class. Yes, they both gave as good as they god, trading honors for top places in everything from this maps and cartography course to hand to hand unarmed combat. And yes, she had every intention of using this little gap in his physical capabilities to oust him from the top position in, well, everything she possibly could. But he was not a liar and had come back with some ancient weapon that wasn’t his. So, yeah. Okay. He’d made it there and back.

Barely.

It was also deeply irritating that the entire class flocked to him, talking all at once, asking questions endless when there was a task to be done. And the instructor didn’t even stop them! What the hell were they all here for anyway? This wasn’t some social hour?

And she swore to the Six that if one more person made that idiotic crack about Cor Leonis being immortal she was going to rip her hair out. He wasn’t that immortal when she kicked him in the nuts after he tried to sling her around by her hair a few weeks ago. Rolled up in a ball on the floor, pale as a sheet and barely breathing. Screw disciplinary action – her braid might be a weakness but at least she could wind that tighter or cut it off.

She huffed to herself, found the chink in the wall that they were supposed to be looking for, marked it, and turned in the assignment before packing up her bag and figuring out how to leave around the assembled throng of admirers. Sliding through the group isn’t that hard until she comes face to face with Cor himself, looking down at her with his usual mocking grin. Only it’s a little less… something.

But she’s not here to think about that, she had places to be and exams to study for.

“Monica,” Cor offered the greeting and Monica rolled her eyes again. “Had fun while I’ve been gone?”

She slapped the fakest smile she could manage on her face and replied, “Of course! It’s been so peaceful without you. Pity you couldn’t stay gone. More work might have gotten done.”

The silence that fell was deafening. Like someone had sucked all the air out of the room and left twelve not-breathing teenagers behind, eyes popping out like fish out of water. Had she really just said that?

Cor set his mouth in a straight line and glared down at her before fairly spitting out, “I’ve been assigned to King Mors now, so you can get as much done as you want.”

Monica moved slightly to the side, a snarl curling her lip up as she returned, “I didn’t know His Majesty was taking one-armed wonders. So much for the honor and dignity of the Crownsguard.” With one last desperately unimpressed glance over him from head to foot, she opened the door as swirled out into the hallway, ignoring the instructor’s voice calling her name in that tone that meant she was in for scrubbing toilets or something equally menial.

And so it was menial but at least it was just laundry instead of showers or toilets. The dressing down that she got for it was worse than the punishment but seldom did the instructors ever need explanations, preferring their own versions of events and why they happen.

Sometimes, like now, they were right. And that pained Monica more than anything. Back in the silence of her room, secure in the shower from her roommate’s questions and chiding and well-meant begging to think before she said anything again, she admitted that they were right. She was jealous. So jealous that it burned that back of her eyes and smelled like the acidic tang of vomit.

He’d made it. He’d made it with brash action and foolish risk. All her years of hard work and toeing the line had been for nothing. Hot tears rolled down her face as she scrubbed the smell of bleach and starch from her skin and hair. She might as well go back home.  


	2. I'm Quiet You Know

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the death of Queen Aulea, Cor and monica find a little more common ground than they had before.

Somehow, this hurt so much worse than when King Mors had died. She’d been new to the Crownsguard then. Or at least newer than she was now and tonight, she was feeling every single hour since that late watch twelve years before.

She’d done that watch out of a sense of duty. Of course, she had respected the King, loved and revered him as a loyal protector would. But by comparison, the sudden loss of Queen Aulea still so young and vibrant, so bright and adored by everyone from King Regis and Prince Noctis to the people she ruled. It seemed so unfair. So unnecessary. And so impossible. How was it that a perfectly healthy woman in the prime of her life could be struck down so quickly by what amounted to a common illness?

Monica was numb now, having overloaded on as much information as there was to have, having gone over it and over it, having seen King Regis break down in tears more than once and having watched the tiny Prince pat his father’s hand asking for his mama. It was all too much to take in.

Her regular tour for the day was over and she’d gone to where the Queen lay in state at the Palace, to pay her respects and say goodbye. The badge of the Crownsguard bought her access away from the main throngs of people who were filing through on the same errand, but that did not free her from the weight of sorrow. If anything, it added to the undercurrents of confusion as what was left of her mind kept beating away at how this wasn’t right. This wasn’t fair. This wasn’t how things were supposed to go.

Back out in the chill of the Insomnian night,  she stopped to take a deep breath hoping that filling her lungs would lift some of the weight off her chest. It did, sort of, but not as much as she’d hoped. There was just no cure for grief except mourning properly.

“Hey,” the voice behind her was familiar and she turned, offering Cor a lift of her chin in greeting. “You heading back?”

Monica nodded, letting him catch up while she tried another long breath. Childish rivalry and jealousy had to be set aside when Monica was initiated into the Crownsguard just shy of a year after Cor. There was no room in endless meetings, busy schedules, and constant running for competing and sharp words. Not that they had given it up overnight. Far from it. Somehow they had found enough time to annoy one another to blows more than once and no meal was peaceful if they were both in the room.

Several years of constant training sessions and missions together had been necessary to hammer home the ‘work together’ and ‘have each other’s backs’ mentality of the Crownsguard proper. Looking back now it was funny in a way, but they were the only ones who saw the humor in it. Marshal Amicitia certainly did not think it was funny when, at his wits end he’d shoved the two of them into the kitchens to wash dishes handcuffed together. And he was decidedly not amused to send them on a routine sweep of a small section of the Wall only to get a call from Cid in Hammerhead that he needed to come get his ‘pups’ because they’d turned up half-dead and snarling at one another. The poor Marshal had nearly had a seizure when they had decided to settle their differences like men in a duel that left Cor’s left arm sliced to ribbons and Monica with a nasty gash on her shoulder.

There was more than one picture of them showing off those scars in the years that followed.

But they’d gotten there, sloughing through the mire of adolescence, both of them really too young to have the positions they had but both of them determined to prove their worth. What became increasingly obvious was that while both were formidable on their own, when put together they were a force of nature.

Where Cor excelled, Monica faltered. And where he failed, she succeeded with next to no effort. Neither had liked that much at the time but eventually, after lots of trial and so many errors that there were parts of the Citadel that would never be the same again, they managed to accept it.

Then thrive in it.

“You holding up ok?”

“Not really. Can’t wrap my head around it.”

“I’m going to have nightmares about the King crying. I’ve never seen anything so awful.”

“Don’t be a jerk, Cor.”

“I’m not. That was painful to watch. Wish we could protect them from that.”

Monica frowned a bit and glanced up at Cor as they walked. “Huh. Didn’t expect that level of depth from you.”

“Listen, I was there when they told Regis that his father was gone and it was the first time I’d seen a royal act human. He was just stunned into silence and they’d been expecting that. Waiting for it, really. But this?” Cor stuffed his hands deep into the pockets of his coat and shivered against the wind, shaking his head.

Monica stayed quiet, understanding what he meant without the need for more words. That was the nice thing about Cor, she thought. He didn’t waste a lot of time saying crap that had already been said. Right now, it was a welcome change.

They neared the south entrance of the Citadel and he held the door open for her. “Have you eaten?”

“No, have you gotten your mail?”

“No.”

They exchanged nods and he headed off in the direction of the cafeteria while she detoured down the side hall that led to the mailboxes. He hadn’t gotten his mail in days it seemed and she hauled the load of catalogues, magazines, and window envelopes up the stairs to her room. She swiped her keycard, dumped the lot on the tiny side table, and cranked the heat before shaking out of her coat and hanging it on the back of the door.

Cor wasn’t too far behind with a pair of plates loaded with whatever was left this late in the evening. “Are you going through my mail?”

“Yes, and frankly the number of girly magazines in here is appalling. Not a single one. You should be ashamed.”

“I am. I’m also hungry, so clear off.”

Monica moved the piles from the table to the countertop and they tucked in to dinner with no further ceremony. Bellies full and minds still turning, she broke the silence several minutes later as she was staring out the window with her chin in her hand.

“I hope I’m wrong but right now, it feels like everything is so…,” she gave a vague wave of her free hand, “Reduced.”

“Like a light’s gone out.”

“Yeah. She just filled up whatever room she was in and now, thinking about her not being there and that not being there anymore it’s just.” Her breath hitched and she shook herself but it was too late. A day of misery, her own and everyone else’s, settled hard into her chest and there was no getting around it. “Sorry, it’s just kinda hit me.”

“Don’t apologize to me,” he said, reaching across the table to lay a hand on her forearm. “It hurts like hell and none of us can show it anywhere but here. At the very least we shouldn’t have to grieve alone.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Roughly 12 -13 years have passed since chapter one. Cor is about 27, Monica around 26. There's not an actual time given for Aulea's death that I am aware of so I'm making it when Noctis is 3 - young enough to get that daddy is very sad and mama isn't coming back but too young to have active memories of it when he is older.


	3. Out of the Doubt That Fills Your Mind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In their first chance to breathe after the attempt on King Regis and Noctis's lives at Tenebrae, Cor and Monica have a conversation about their feelings for each other.

“Are we going to talk about this?”

“Is now really the time?”

Cor turned his head, studying Monica’s profile against the moonlight reflecting off the water. “No, but it’s as good a time as any.”

He had a point. On the water, there was no threat of daemons. They’d see any pursuers from Niflheim miles away. And once they hit land at Caem, they would be back on constant watch until they got King Regis and Prince Noctis back to Insomnia. It was anybody’s guess if Niflheim would follow them that far after the assassination attempt at Tenebrae.

Most people guessed that they would. Cor knew they would.

Monica took a deep breath and blew it out. “Are we going to chalk this up to too much wine?”

“That would keep it from being weird.” Half a glass, even of the sweet Tenebraen vintage, hardly counted as too much. “Though I’m not really sure why it has to be weird.”

“I’m not sure either, but it feels weird right now.”

“Probably because we’ve avoided it for three days.”

“Yes, because running for our lives puts a damper on romantic heart-to-hearts.” She tried to sound matter-of-fact but it fell apart at the end when she giggled. Dragging her hand down her face she heaved a sigh, “This is absurd.”

“Not really,” he insisted evenly. At her lifted eyebrow Cor shrugged. “We see each other nearly every day, work together, eat together, spend days off together. I trust you with my life and if that whole tossing me a gun, demanding cover fire, and then standing up in the middle of an open field to quadcast Thundara on a bunch of MTs is any indication, you trust me too.”

Monica laughed and her shoulders sagged. “So what you are saying is that we are already an old married couple so what’s a little impromptu kissing going to hurt?”

Cor’s shoulders shook in quiet laughter of his own and he held up one finger, “Okay first of all, that was not a little. I am now well acquainted with the taste of your back teeth. Secondly….”

He didn’t get any farther because she elbowed him in the ribs and interrupted, “That is your crap technique and has no place in this conversation.”

“Crap technique? I didn’t hear you complaining,” he pointed out.

“How could I? Your tongue was in my way.” Monica dissolved into tired giggling and Cor leaned forward, his forearms on his thighs to mask his own amusement.

A few minutes of quiet passed, the sounds of water lapping the sides of the boat as it cut through the water. Soft sounds below-deck meant that the watches were alert while everyone else gave in to the exhaustion of having barely escaped with King and heir intact. The contrast between the seriousness of the situation they were in and the subject at hand was not lost on either of them.

“This _is_ absurd,” he finally said, flopping back. “Let’s just cut to the chase. Are you interested or not?”

Monica sighed again and shook her head, “You know it’s not that simple. There’s rules about fraternization…”

Now it was Cor’s turn to interrupt, “There is exactly nothing in the Code about dating within the ranks. All that’s there is the stipulation that no interpersonal relationship should undermine or negatively influence the professional role of the Crownsguard.”

Monica countered, “But it is strongly discouraged.”

“But not completely forbidden.” Cor crossed his arms and huffed, “Look, if you don’t want this to go anywhere just say so. You don’t have to find an approved way out.”

“Would I be pointing any of this out if I was trying to get out of it?” She turned in place on the bench to look him, tucking her foot under her knee. “But we’ve both got lives here and I’m not sure if I’m willing to risk my future or yours if we couldn’t keep personal and professional separate.”

“You don’t think we could?” Cor knit his brows together and frowned. That sounded like a challenge to him.

Monica turned her hands palms up and shrugged, “I don’t know. And I’m not so sure that it would matter anyway. It’s not like we haven’t both screwed up before.”

She had a point. Again. That seemed to be the refrain that repeated in his life when it came to her. She always had a point. She had a gift for sound judgement, honest assessment, and being fearless without being foolish. In short she was by nature everything that he’d had to work at.  With the added bonuses of not waving that whole ‘Immortal’ thing in his face and being really attractive, what wasn’t to admire?

If he was being honest with himself, it was the former rather than the latter that sold him more on her every day. The title was starting to wear badly.

They sat in silence for a long time, both of them lost in thought and mindlessly scanning the horizon  behind them for any sign of Niflheim’s pursuit.  After what could have been anywhere from twenty minutes to two hours, Monica reached up and scrubbed her eyes.

“Okay, when we land at Caem, I guess we’ll start.” She stood up, stretched, and groaned when her spine popped against the strain.

Cor looked up at her, blinking her face into focus and nodding. “Yeah,” he agreed, thinking about how they’d not know for another few hours what might be waiting for them there – a smooth motorcade home or more fighting.

Monica bent forward and pressed a kiss to his lips, “I’m going to bed. Try to get some sleep, okay?”

 Cor nodded, slightly stunned, as she turned to head below. She was halfway down the ladder before he asked, “So is that a yes?”

She leveled a pitying look at him and rolled her eyes. “Yes, Cor. Go to bed. You are embarrassing yourself.”

“Rather go to yours.”

The look her got for that was long-suffering and he was pretty sure she considered taking back that yes for a second. Instead she pointed to the side of the boat and advised, “Go dunk your own head. I don’t have the energy to do it for you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is set as the Royal Retinue makes it's way back to Lucis after the disastrous visit to Tenebrae after Noctis was injured when he was 8. I'm making an educated guess that their escape was done in a hurry until they made it out of Accordo and out of Niflheim-controlled territory.
> 
> If you want to know about the kissing incident in Tenebrae that they talk about, it's [here!](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11409810)


	4. Even The Best Fall Down Sometimes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The couple that goes through career changes together stays togehter. At least they do when they know what belongs in the boardroom and what belongs in the bedroom.

“In conclusion, while the absolute intent of the structures is uncertain there are many factors pointing to the increased activity not being totally peaceful in nature.” Monica frowned at the map projected on the white board and turned to face her audience again. “Questions?”

“You say that the public records indicate that the properties adjacent were sold at what appears to be fair market value. Is there no first-hand report of those transactions available? Even by word of mouth?” Clarus Amicitia looked deeply troubled as he asked the question, as if he already knew what the answer would be.

“No. The individuals listed in the records office in Lestallum were not able to be found.” Saying it out loud sounded like a death knell in her ears. Thinking it was one thing but giving it words?

“Not able to be found how,” the voice of King Regis cut through the room like a knife and Monica pulled herself up straighter as she answered.

“To put a very fine point on it Your Majesty, of the ten individuals and families listed in the certified sales records, none of them have been seen since at least six months before the increased activity was noted. In the sparse populations outside of the outposts, they were not missed. It was then assumed that they had taken the money offered and moved on.”

“What of local gossip? What do the people of these areas believe about the influx of soldiers?” Dustin asked.

Monica turned back to the map on the wall and stared at it for a few seconds before answering. “The people of Liede think nothing of it. The post is remote and few other than hunters frequent the area. In Duscae, the main concern is the uptick in daemon activity, but that isn't remarked on other than more stringent urgings to not be on the road at night.”

“Did you do anything to address beliefs?” Cor asked as he scribbled notes and a rough copy of the map in the folder in front of him.

“That was not part of my mission objective. It is worth noting that in Lestallum, there was actually a sighting of what was thought to be an Imp inside the EXNERIS power plant.”

Papers shuffled and muffled comments went around the room.

“And the location in Cleigne is surrounded by enough walls to function as out of both sight and mind," Regis provided as he rose from his seat, causing a ripple effect in the room as the assembled Crownsguard followed suit, fists over their hearts in salute. “Thank you for your hard work, Ms. Elshett. You will be called when we need more information.” He cast an unreadable look at the map on the wall again and exited the room, Clarus on his heels, dismissing them all with a wave of his hand.

The room emptied out while Monica ejected the disk from the projector and turned it off. She wiped off the lines she’d drawn to emphasize the areas of interest, pausing while her peers welcomed her back and extended invitation for drinks and gossip later. She readily agreed and the last few stragglers filtered out the door.

As voices faded down the hall and the door shut on its own Cor clicked his pen and shut the folder he’d been frowning at. “While you were gone, Clarus announced that he was going to be leaving the position of Marshal. His son is going to be joining us soon and, in his words, the boy is enough of a challenge at home. He doesn’t want to have to manage him here as well.” He rose and rolled his shoulders back, stretching his right arm back and down, rotating the stiffness out of it.

She tucked the disk into her mission portfolio and paused to give him a genuine smile, “Then congratulations are in order. When do you take office?”

“Two weeks from yesterday. But with my move up that is going to leave my current position vacant. It would be slightly less travel than you are used to, more time spent instructing and in meetings but nothing that I don’t think you could handle.”

Something was off. He was too still, his eyes smooth at the edges and dull gray. “When do you need an answer?” She punctuated her question with the barest nod of her head.

“Unfortunately, as soon as possible. The transition period has already begun and nobody wants loose ends to stay that way.” Cor let out the breath he’d been holding when he caught her nod. She got it, well. Maybe not completely but she got enough to know that there was a lot more to this story than he was telling her in this monitored meeting room.

“I’ll take the offer under consideration and you will have an answer on your desk tomorrow morning.”

Later, after welcome home drinks and gossip were had with friends a welcome on a much more intimate scale was had. In the fading afterglow, wrapped around one another with the sheets pulled up to their ears, Monica stroked her hand over Cor’s throat and asked, “So what’s the problem?”

“This is it. End of the line,” and if he sounded numb about it nobody should be surprised.

Her hand stilled in its petting as she pulled back, her look incredulous, “What?”

“It hit me the other day that unless something truly horrible happens, Marshal is as far as I’ll get. End of the line, top of the heap,” His shrugged. Somehow, having it out in the free air instead of in his head felt better. “I know that what I’m going to be doing is vital to the future of Lucis and eventually to the world and I know that I’m the right person for this job,” his voice was tight with conviction but softened as he added, “But I can’t get comfortable with the feeling that this is the final position for me and I’m not even forty yet.”

 Monica was quiet for several minutes while she took in what he was saying. She wasn’t going to waste time going over the ground they’d already covered more than once before. Both of them had known that this would happen – Clarus would step down when his son was ready to start his Crownsguard training in earnest because Gladiolus was his heir to the position of Shield but he was also his son, bound by love and years of established relationship and family dynamic. It was also the right time for Clarus to dedicate himself solely to the support of King Regis who seemed to age more rapidly every day.

No, Cor’s problem had nothing to do with the change in position but with the fact that it was coming so much sooner for him than he had anticipated. She leaned up and pressed a kiss to his jaw and said, “The Crownsguard that are coming in the next few years, Gladiolus and the Scientia boy and maybe even little Iris Amicitia eventually, they are going to have a huge task. Prince Noctis is the Chosen King. They will be the ones who serve him the same way you served Mors and now King Regis. But they won’t be able to do those things unless they are first taught how.”

Cor thought for a minute and answered, “I know.”

“And if you were any older you wouldn’t have the same level of drive or grit that it’s going to take to prepare them. Just look at how Clarus has changed over the past five years,” she pointed out, thinking about how he had once been so strict with them all but now barely darkened the door of a disciplinary hearing.

“He’s just worried about Regis,” Cor excused quickly.

“And now he doesn’t have to be and you don’t either. Because he will be supporting the King and you,” she emphasized her point with a finger to his chest, “will be getting their sons ready for a better future. I know it doesn’t look the way you thought it would, but if you were any older you’d be in the same position Clarus is in and if you were any younger you wouldn’t have the experience you need to do the job you’ve got to do.”

Cor took a deep breath and let it out slowly. The cold, empty feeling of finality that had been coiling in his chest over the past three days was starting to loosen by inches. He could be his own worst enemy at times, his stubbornness did not leave a lot of room for change no matter how small. And he was well aware that taking exception to being younger than he thought he would be at this point was extremely small in the face of what the future would hold.

“This is why I want you as my Second.” He tugged at her arm to pull her close. “You keep me in my place.”

 Monica nestled her head into the hollow of his neck and relaxed, content that now that he’d gotten that out of his system he was going to be okay. It didn’t happen often, but when it did all he needed was a nudge back to reality. “You want me as your Second because I’ve never tattled on you for not being able to navigate your way out of a paper bag with breadcrumbs on a well-lit path.”

“That was one time nearly 20 years ago,” he defended. “And I never ignored your directions again.”

“Only because the threat of having to explain how you got me killed scared the shit out of you. Oh,” her head popped back up and he could feel the smirk on her face without having to open his eyes to see it. “Speaking of adventures in the desert, I stopped in at Longwythe on the way back.”

“And how’s Dave doing?” Cor grumbled.

“Fantastic,” she chirped in quick response. “He blushed like a schoolboy when I walked into the Crow’s Nest and tried to buy me dinner.”

Cor grumbled again and gave her thigh a sharp squeeze, “Why do you even tell me these things?”

Monica bit off a yelp and snorted unattractively as she squirmed out of his grip, “Because watching you get unreasonably jealous is my guilty pleasure. And you make it so _easy_ to do.”

He tugged her back in to place against him and huffed. “Maybe I don’t want you as my Second after all.”

“Well, I’ll guess you’ll find out which you get in the morning,” she said around a jaw cracking yawn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter happens about 4-5 years after the last one. I know these are some big time jumps, but they'll shrink in future chapters.


	5. Where I Follow, You'll Go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A peaceful interlude for Cor's birthday leads to affectionate insults and proves that once bros, always bros.

“You did send word for him to come, didn’t you?” Regis lifted a hand and scratched behind his ear, absently flipping through a magazine while he lounged on the sofa in his private quarters.

“Of course I did.” Clarus checked his watch again and frowned. “I’ll give him five more minutes before I call to see if there is some problem.”

“No, you’ll give him five minutes before you will go see if there is a problem,” Regis corrected. “I can be left unattended for short periods of time without getting my head caught in a jar or tumbling off the sofa.”

“Don’t you start with that again,” Clarus warned evenly. Anything else that he was intending to say was cut off by the arrival of Cor, who they had both been waiting for.

“At last,” Regis scolded as the door was shut behind his old friend, “I thought I was going to die of thirst before you arrived.”

“Didn’t anyone tell you that it is no longer fashionable to be late to your own birthday party?” Clarus chimed in, pouring three glasses of amber liquid with dizzying speed and handing them around.

Cor spread his arms in mock annoyance and fired back, “Since when did I care about fashion?”

“In that sweater? Obviously never,” Regis remarked with a flash of curiosity as he looked over Cor’s attire.

Cor accepted his glass and shook his head, “I was invited here for presents, not a roast.” He sipped appreciatively at the Altissian vintage and added, “At least Weskham still loves me.”

Regis raised an eyebrow and dropped his chin in what those who knew him best knew to be a warning sign of impending doom, “It would appear that he is not the only one.”

Clarus looked up at the King’s tone and followed his very pointed look to the pale pink bruise peeking from the edge of Cor’s offensive sweater. Clarus’s jaw dropped and he blurted, “You _date_?”

Regis settled himself back on to the sofa and patted Clarus’s arm on the way down, “Now, now. Don’t put the man on the spot like that.” He hid his amused grin behind the rim of his glass and added, “He might have paid good money for the lady’s company.”

Cor knocked back the remains of his drink in one go and stared at his friends, shaking his head.

“That look won’t work on us Cor.” Clarus traded glances with Regis who nodded sagely in agreement.

The birthday boy cracked and moved, refilling his glass before dropping in to a chair and changing the subject. “I was promised presents,” he reminded them.

Regis chuckled at the attempt and let it go for the time being. He produced a small box from his inside coat pocket while Clarus reached for two other packages, one long and narrow the other more like an envelope. “Save Cid’s for last this time. If there are going to be explosions, I want to put them off as long as possible.”

Cor made a face and nodded once in agreement. “Wise. Though what could explode in something that flat is anyone’s guess.”

“And not a guess I am willing to make. Start opening or you will be asked to leave.” Regis’s eyes flashed with either the alcohol or the anticipation and he took another sip of his drink. “Incidentally, Wes sent you your very own bottle of this back alley Altissian whiskey.”

Cor paused in his intentionally slow untying of the ribbon on Regis’s gift to look to the ceiling with his hand over his heart and sigh, “He really does love me.”

“Yes well if you don’t get a move on I’ll have you hung for insubordination. I’m rather proud of that and I want to be sober to enjoy your expression and young enough to actually see it at this distance.”

Cor chuckled and kept on at the snail’s pace, working each tiny piece of tape loose carefully and sticking it to the upholstery until Regis’s eyes were all but falling out of his head. Once he began grumbling about ‘jumped up little shit’ Cor relented and tore in to the box with the appropriate zeal.

“Six, Regis,” he breathed, leaning back and looking thunderstruck. “Is this….”

“It is. The Niella bracelet.”

Regis had been hoping for a good reaction from his taciturn friend and he got what he wanted in spades. Cor sat silent, staring in shock at the delicate but unbending braid of titanium, diamond, and ruby glittering in its nest of black velvet for a long time, his mouth slightly open as he attempted to process a gift of this magnitude. Finally he managed to ask, “How did you manage to find one? They are the stuff of legends.”

Regis, smug smile in place and pleased enough to thoroughly enjoy his drink now answered as if he were addressing a particularly simple child, “I am King. I can have what I want.” He sipped with his chin in the air and tacked on as an afterthought, “If I am willing to wait fifteen years for it to be located.”

Cor could do little but blink for several more minutes until Regis snapped his fingers at him and called him back to Eos. “I’m glad you are pleased but Clarus isn’t getting any younger.”

Cor shook himself and breathed, “Thank you,” as he gave the Niella a long last look and set the box to the side. Faithful to the agreement about no explosions until last he grabbed the oblong box from Clarus and wasted no time in opening it.

“Oh, you’ll get on with it for him but will let me have a heart attack waiting? I see how you are,” Regis complained without malice.

“Age demands certain consideration,” Clarus explained with a haughty wave of his hand narrowly avoiding the sofa cushion that was aimed at his head.

“Now who is going to have to be hung?” Cor wondered as he slid a long tube out of the box he’d unwrapped and worked the top off with a pop. “Ooh. Maybe I need to have birthdays more often,” he discarded the empty tube on the floor with no ceremony and examined gently unsheathed the blade within.

“It is called Kikuichimonji and while it is not the most powerful blade in the world it is strong, perfectly balanced, and light enough to not encumber your off-hand,” Clarus explained. “And I am glad to see that giving you sharp pointy things still turns you into a child in a candy shop,” he laughed as Cor gave the weapon a series of test swings, lopsided smile giving away his excitement.

“Mind the furniture,” Regis half-heartedly demanded. “It is rather old.”

“I only ruin things that are under 200 or over 1000 years old on Thursdays. It’s a personal rule that I am very attached to,” Cor insisted as he slid the blade back into its sheath with a satisfying little click.

“Is that before or after Avoid Small Children?” Clarus asked.

“And where is it in relationship to Broccoli is Evil?” Regis inquired with his head cocked to the side.

Cor pressed his lips together in a thin line and picked up the envelope from Cid. “I hope this does blow up because you are horrible people, attacking me like this on my birthday.” Her kept his eyes on the two men while he slit the plain white envelope open and pulled the contents out.

Nothing exploded and the letter inside didn’t even play music but when he unfolded the paper, a bright red Ribbon slipped out. Cor caught it before it hit the floor and grinned as he read aloud, “Seeing as how you are getting on in years, I thought this might come in handy. They may call you The Immortal, but I know better. Happy Birthday, kid.”

“Where on Eos do you suppose he found that?” Clarus wondered with a puff of laughter.

“It wouldn’t surprise me if it was mixed in with his young granddaughter’s hair-ribbons.” Regis’s smile was indulgent, thinking of simpler times and maybe even younger days. That was the effect that alcohol had on him sometimes.

Cor tucked the Ribbon in a pocket along with Cid’s letter and moved to refill their glasses. Halfway through Clarus’s, his phone rang. Clarus frowned at the call and answered, the conversation taking a quick turn from curious to concerned.

“Trouble at home,” Regis asked, moving to stand as Clarus ended the call.

“Yes. Iris has taken a bad fall down the stairs. Gladio says she’s broken her arm. He’s taking her to the hospital now.” Calrus’s worry showed on his face as his forehead wrinkled.

“You need to go,” Cor insisted, taking the glass from him and handing it to Regis.

Regis agreed emphatically and Clarus nodded. “I’m so sorry,” he apologized to Cor who dismissed it with a shake of his head.

“No need. Your family comes first in this case.” Cor pulled Clarus into a hug and thanked him for the sword before Regis shooed the Shield out the door.

Surveying the nearly-full ration of whiskey in Clarus’s discarded glass, Cor shrugged and dumped it into his own before sprawling back into his chair. Regis eased himself back in to his place on the sofa and stretched his legs out in front of him, wincing slightly as his knee protested. Knowing how he hated anything like fussing, Cor noted the action in silence and let it pass.

“So,” Regis began, running an idle finger around the lip of his glass. “I hope that I am not keeping you from Ms. Elshett’s company unwillingly.”

This was no shot in the dark on Regis’s part. He’d spent the better part of the past hour putting together what little he had to go on to try to figure out who it might be that Cor – exacting, meticulous, stubborn, and habitual Cor – was close enough with to be getting love-bites from.

Cor nearly coughed but managed to choke down his drink before narrowing his eyes as Regis and stalling, “Pardon?”

“Drop the act, Cor.” Bullseye. Regis did like being right. “How long has that being going on?”

Cor blew out a long breath, his cheeks puffing out as he did. “Not quite five years?”

Now it was Regis’s turn to be shocked. He sat bolt upright and leveled a look at Cor that he usually saved for Noctis when he was being particularly difficult. “Five years? And you never thought to tell me? Or Clarus? Or anyone?”

Cor sat in stony silence and waited. For what he wasn’t sure but whatever it was it was going to be unpleasant.

Regis’s shock resolved itself into varying degrees of dismay and then just plain hurt as he filtered this lack of response from one of his oldest friends. “Do you not trust me? Did you think that I wouldn’t approve? Give me something to go on here, please.” Anything would do really.

Cor leveled a look at Regis and willed his friend to understand what he was about to say. “I never brought it up because it would have been professionally detrimental.”

Anything but that would do and it was all Regis could do to not cross the room and black Cor’s eye. “You do not spend five years of your life romantically involved with your second in command then spout off some crap about professionalism,” he barked.

“That isn’t what I meant,” Cor defended sharply, matching Regis’s volume before lowering his voice again. “If I had told you, you and Clarus and everyone else would have found some well-meaning way to end Monica’s career, either through pigeonholing her as ‘my girlfriend’ or blocking her promotion to Second in a misguided attempt to keep her safe or me happy.”

Regis’s jaw worked, his teeth grinding as he realized the truth of what Cor was saying. He and Clarus would have done exactly that – held her back, insisted on giving her easy, safe, assignments so that there would be no chance of her leaving or dying on him. He and Clarus knew that pain all too well and would have done anything and everything to spare Cor the same.

The silence was thick, heavy, and broken only by the gentle thunk of cut glass tumblers on generations old wood for a long time, both of them turning over variations of what could possibly be said next and considering the outcomes of this conversation.

“I’m sorry,” Cor’s apology came quietly and simply and felt like it covered a lot of ground.

Regis took it as it was offered. “So am I, my friend.” His glass was empty and he had no desire to have it full again. “I suppose there is no pretending we never had this conversation?”

“No.”

Regis hummed and tapped his index finger on the arm of the sofa. “I honestly have no idea what to say or do at this point,” he admitted. “My first inclination is to do exactly as you said out of a desire to keep her safe for you. I assume,” he gave Cor a sidelong look, “That you are in love with her?”

Cor let out a short laugh, “Yes.”

Regis groaned. “And obviously there is no concern over conflicts of interest if you have kept this under your hats for so long with nobody being the wiser.”

“Right,” and if he sounded pleased about that so be it. They’d tried and found that keeping business and pleasure separate was much easier than they’d thought. It was second nature by now.

Regis huffed, “Don’t gloat. How you’ve managed it in that heaving mass of gossip and speculation I will never know. You’ve probably made some unholy deal with the gods, knowing you.”

“No, we just drew hard lines and don’t cross them. And knowing where all the cameras are helps, too.”

“I’m sure it does!” Regis thought hard for several minutes before he spoke again. “I understand your reasons for secrecy. I do not like them, they are not easy or pleasant to hear, but I understand them. And though I may live to regret it, I will not tell Clarus.”

“Thank you.”

Regis held up a hand to silence Cor. “Wait before you thank me. I will not tell Clarus on one condition.”

Cor blinked, holding his breath and waiting. Regis had a reputation when it came to his conditions. They were usually impossible to live with.

“That you stop trying to actively hide your relationship.” Cor opened his mouth to protest but Regis kept talking. “I’m not asking you to announce it in the next meeting or take to halting elevators for steamy make-out sessions...”

“No, that was your job,” Cor slipped in when Regis paused for breath.

Regis’s ears went pink and he continued with his voice a bit more clipped than usual, “All I am asking is that you not feel obligated to be strictly business when it is not necessary.”

“Example?”

Regis fished around in his mind for a good one and snapped his fingers. “The Crownsguard ball. Any events that are more social than professional.”

“You realize that we both actually work a lot of those.”

“Stop being obtuse and just agree.”

“To ease your mind?”

“And to give Clarus a fighting chance at figuring this out on his own. I know he is not particularly attentive to these things but you’ve been very underhanded about this,” Regis scolded. “We are, after all, your best and oldest friends. The fact that you’ve fallen in love is not something you should keep from your friends.”

“Even if they would have ruined it by clucking over her like worried hens?”

“Don’t be harsh, Cor,” Regis begged gently, “Losing the person you love is harder than you can possibly know no matter the circumstances. And it isn’t like we can do any ruining now.”

“No, I suppose not. Which works out nicely for us.” Cor stood and stretched, his elbow popping audibly.

Regis rose stiffly and snorted as his knee joined the symphony of joints. “We sound like a healthy lot.”

Cor crossed the few paces to his King and put a hand on his shoulder, “Add in Clarus’s neck, Wes’s ankles, and Cid’s back and we could keep a physical therapist busy for a lifetime.”

Regis clapped a hand on the back of Cor’s neck and pulled him forward into a hug. “Maybe someday we can terrorize the attendants in the Nursing home together. But not today! Happy birthday, Cor.”

The two men said their goodbyes and Cor gathered his gifts under his arm. With promises to alert each other should word come about Iris, Cor started for the door. Before he left he turned back and asked, “How did you know? That it was Monica?”

“You may not keep up with fashion but little Iris Amicitia does. She commented the other day that she did not like the new trend of dark lipsticks. That pale, shimmery colors are prettier, like the ones Ms. Elshett wears,” Regis’s face broke in to a wicked smile as he finished, “And leaves traces of on your collar.”

“I’m moving Avoiding Small Children up to the top of my list,” Cor insisted before leaving to the sound of Regis’s laughter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promised funny and I hope that you are all as amused by this as I am. I was prepared to be unhappy about the game being a complete sausagefest, but it really is refreshingly easy to write dudes being bros.


	6. I'm Trying Not to Think About You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ignis and Gladio might not see eye to eye about much just now, but at least they both agree that Gladio is extremely attractive.

Ignis studied Gladiolus with a frown. The young man across the library table from him was sprawled out, both hands dangling limply off opposite edges, his chin resting in the spine of his open textbook, a pencil held between his nose and upper lip, and eyes crossed with the concentration of keeping it there.

“I will never understand,” Ignis began in a whisper, “How it is that you can be a voracious reader, well-informed, and still manage to avoid doing anything that even remotely looks like homework.”

Gladiolus said nothing but went a little more cross-eyed in his effort to watch how the balance of his pencil was going.

Ignis sighed. “If it is easy for you, why not be done with it?”

Gladio’s eyes went wide, his cheek twitched, and he sneezed, sending the pencil rolling to the floor. He sniffed, threw grinning thanks to the girl who had blessed him from the next table, and scooted his chair back in as he explained, “I don’t see the point in trigonometry. Where is this ever going to apply to anything I’ll ever do?”

Ignis stared at his study partner, unblinking. Why did he have to be so charming? And without warning? That cocky, lopsided smile should be illegal. Or at least very much regulated by some well-funded and overstaffed state entity. Ignis would happily apply for the directorship.

“Aw, c’mon Iggy. Don’t give me that look,” Gladio said, leaning across the table conspiratorially. “You know it’s true. When is this shit ever going to be useful?”

Ignis’s mind floated out of his reverie, coming back to reality with a sigh, “How will you know the best way to bash the enemies of the Crown if you can’t calculate the proper angle at which to attack?”

Gladio flashed another winning smile, this time directly at Ignis, and stated, “If I’m aiming for ‘em, I’ll hit ‘em.”

Screw applying, he would volunteer to regulate that charm and would do it for free. A service, a sacrifice he would be willing to make for the good of.… Well, himself mostly but left unchecked who knew the levels of mayhem and chaos Gladio could cause if left unattended?

Just look at the number of young women who were in the library right now, suddenly in need of books right in this section? And how not a one of them seemed to be able to find what they were looking for very easily, even with the standardized and ancient system of book organization.

Just look at the fact that he himself hadn’t done a single problem in ten minutes.

Ignis shook himself and looked down at the wall of text in his own book. “Just do your work so that we can get on with the rest of our day.”

“You got plans?” Gladio asked as he came back up from the floor with his pencil in hand. He scratched out a few lines of the solution and frowned in concentration.

Ignis only glanced his way, he couldn’t afford to get sidetracked again. “Weapons training, tactical driving practice, then I have an hour each with Davies and Compeysen, and this evening I have asked to shadow one of the Glaive.”

It was Gladio’s turn to stare now. “That sounds,” he paused for just a second, “boring as hell.” The mention of Davies alone had him wanting to fall asleep. Who would willingly go in for more talk about which spoon to use for the fourth soup course?

He might be attractive but Gladiolus was certainly lacking in some ways. “Some of us,” Ignis said with a supreme effort at patience, “Do not want to be forced to wear scars as badges of pride. Dr. Compeysen is the foremost authority on the utilization of the King’s magic…. Are you even listening?”

No, he was not. Gladio was yawning now and not being very polite about it. After a stretch that tested the limits of his t-shirts seams, he reluctantly got back to work. After a few moments of silence, he broke it again by asking, “Do you ever have any fun at all?”

“Of course,” Ignis answered smoothly, reversing his work to check for errors. “Over the weekend, I saw the new play being put on at the Royal Theatre called Lovelace. Unfortunately, just before the last act there was a small fire and the theatre had to be evacuated. But we were all offered tickets to another night to see it finished.”

“Not what I meant,” Gladio rolled his eyes and tried to focus on the work in front of him. It had to get done, after all. “Haven’t you ever been to a party? Or a club?”

Ignis did not bother with willfully misunderstanding and listing the balls, dinner parties, and academic clubs he belonged to. “They are not my thing.”

“But how do you know if you’ve never been?” Gladio insisted quietly, leaning forward again. He frowned and reached out a hand to swat at Ignis’s arm. “You gotta _try_ to _know_.”

Ignis leveled a stare at Gladio and was about to shake his head, both in denial of this round-about request and to keep himself from getting distracted again by how Gladio moved, when a flutter of quicker motion in the distance caught his attention.

“Oh dear,” Ignis purred, unable to keep the smugness out of his voice. “It would seem that someone is looking for you.”

Gladio’s frown deepened and he craned around in his seat, following the nod of Ignis’s head. Gladio’s eyes went wide and his mind raced as he whipped his head back around and did his level best to disappear into his chair. “Iggy,” he was breathless, desperate. “You have to help me.”

“I have to do nothing of the sort,”Ignis put on his best offended face. “Your inability to manage your study time is not my problem.  Now you will have to balance both watching over your sister for the afternoon and getting this assignment finished as well as any other duties you might have.”

Gladio’s expression of pure hurt was enough to have earned him some sort of help from anyone but Ignis. “Heartless ass,” he accused as he cringed, Iris’s sweet voice was shushed by their butler Jared’s whisper as the crossed the library.

“Perhaps if you were a bit more inclined to work and less inclined to talk, I would be more sympathetic to your plight. But as it is,” Ignis shrugged and let the statement trail off. Iris beamed at him and waved happily when she saw him behind the bulk of her brother and he offered her a smile in return.

“Gladdy!” She greeted in a stage whisper, earning her a few tittering giggles from the stacks. “It’s time to go home. You promised that you would play hide and seek with me if it was sunny and it is.”

‘Gladdy’ looked like he could sink right into the carpet and die and Ignis was distracted all over again as he watched him pack up his books and notes, stuffing them into his backpack in a rush while he shushed his sister again. He cast Ignis a baleful look as he stood up and Ignis just gave him a bland smile in return.

As they walked away, Iris still talking just a little bit louder than was strictly necessary, Ignis indulged himself in what was suddenly the most riveting pastime in that section of the library: watching Gladiolus Amicitia walk away.

Really. Someone needed to oversee the tailoring of his trousers. That amount of cling had to be considered indecent somewhere in the world. Ignis would volunteer for the task, magical medical knowledge and Glaive shadowing be damned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are things that annoy me about Gladio then there are THINGS THAT ANNOY ME ABOUT GLADIO and the latter includes those endless sneezing fits. Good grief, get some Claritin. The pair of them are 14 and 15 years old in this chapter.


	7. Clever Trick

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Even after a few years of near constantly having to work together, Ignis still can't understand much about ho and why Gladio manages to get away with any of the frankly questionable things he does. But hormones run high and they don't demand detailed explanations.

“I can’t believe you,” Gladio shook his head, mouth slightly open in shock. Was this guy serious? Like, really serious?

“I wish you would move past this.” Ignis sounded weary and bored but then again, he usually sounded weary and bored when he was completely missing the point Gladio was making.

“That girl went out of her way to give you chocolate last month and you are telling me that your sorry ass isn’t going to return the favor next week? You, sir,” Gladio pulled himself up straighter and put his hands on his hips, “Are pathetic.”

They were both sweaty and gross from time spent both in combat training and in the gym and this conversation was happening with swarms of people going past them through the breezeway between there and the showers.

Ignis rolled his eyes and began, “That is an archaic tradition that I am confident you yourself do not observe.” To Gladio’s display of hurt at this judgement, IGnis replied, “Because if you did you would have no money at all to spend on the collection of novels and lanterns that you must be building a bomb shelter out of, given the quantities you have amassed.”

Gladio huffed as the deluge of people slowed to a straggler or two and they were finally able to cross. “Surprise, Mr. No Romance, I do return the gifts.” Gladio pushed open the far door and walked in, his voice staring to echo off the tile walls as he said, “I keep the bought ones, rewrap them, and give them back to one of the other girls. I’m not spending all that much that way.”

The burst of laughter that came out of Ignis made Gladio shrug and smirk as he popped open his locker. “I know. It’s really smart. Like, I don’t eat the stuff, and I don’t want to just toss it – that’s wasteful. And Iris likes it, but not all that much. So I give her the handmade ones and reuse the bought stuff.” He stripped off his damp tank and toed off his sneakers. He peeled out of his shorts and made a face. He was rank and knew it.

Ignis just stared, his mouth slightly open as he stammered, “I can’t believe you would do that.”

Gladio grabbed his soap off the locker shelf and headed for the showers, picking a towel off the top of the stack by the door. “What? It’s really efficient. And,” he said, pointing a finger at Ignis, “You have no idea how hard it is to make sure I don’t give someone the chocolate her best friend gave to me. I’ve lost sleep over that this year.”

Ignis just blinked as Gladio hit the taps of his usual showerhead and counted to six for it to be warm before he dunked himself under the spray. “Just cause I don’t want any of them doesn’t mean I want to hurt anybody’s feelings. I’m not heartless,” he explained as he heard the water start in the next cubicle.

“And you will never have any of them at this rate,” was Ignis’s assessment.

“Shut up,” Gladio fired back. “If one of them was really worth the time, I’d make it happen.”

“Oh, so now it is the fault of the girl’s themselves for not being interesting enough?”

Ignis was setting him up and some part of Gladio’s brain knew this but not with enough certainty to be able to stop his mouth. He swiped a hand over his eyes and popped his head over the low wall between the showers and glowered, “Just cause I haven’t had a date in a while doesn’t mean anything. Sucks, but it doesn’t mean anything.”

Ignis’s brows rose and so did Gladio’s temper. Only it didn’t actually, because those eyebrows were very right in their judgement. It was a sorry state of affairs when he, Gladiolus Amicitia, couldn’t get a date. Not that Gladio was about to admit that it had anything to do with him, but while selection was plentiful, who had the time?

“Not that you are any better off. Can’t even return a gift to a perfectly sweet girl who thought of you! Sad.” Gladio clicked his tongue disapprovingly and turned back to give himself a final rinse. “Guess you’ll be spending more time with Handy Sandy and her five sist-SHIT!”

The tail end of his witty barb was cut off by the showerhead – low enough for most people to be under it – connecting solidly with the side of Gladio’s head as he turned. The combination of the dull thud and his explosive reaction had Ignis popping up over the wall looking concerned if not very squinty about it.

“It seems you have been visited by the Irony Fairy. She comes to injure you mildly when you are saying stupid things that apply to yourself as well.” Ignis went back to washing his hair.

Gladio did not appreciate the smirk in Ignis’s voice one bit, “Like I said, just because I haven’t gotten laid in a while doesn’t mean anything.”

“No, of course not,” Ignis was baiting him again. The asshole.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Gladio demanded, bristling slightly.

A sigh and the water next door shut off. “I was just agreeing with you.”

Gladio killed the shower on his side and huffed, “It sucks man. If I don’t get laid soon, I think I might die.”

He could hear the head shake and the intake of breath that could only mean that Ignis was trying not to laugh at him. But bless the boy if he wasn’t civil about it, actually managing to sound sympathetic instead of sarcastic when he advised, “If sex is all you are looking for, it shouldn’t be that difficult to find someone willing.”

Gladio toweled off and considered this for a moment. Not that he hadn’t thought about it before but coming from Ignis seemed to legitimize the idea of what would amount to a one night stand. Gladio wasn’t really sure, but something about the idea of a casual hookup was a turn off. But now that Ignis was the one suggesting it, maybe there was some merit in it?

He dried his hair and his mind worked over this problem. He’d have to be really choosy in order for it to work, that much was obvious. If he was just looking to get off, most of the considerations for the long term were off the table. So personality, interests, and a good bit of the looks were non-issues. But it would be a lot more important for her to know what she was doing, which ruled out every single girl he knew. At just shy of seventeen, none of the girls he had access to would do. They giggled when he smiled, they’d probably run screaming if he took off his pants.

So where did that leave him? Needing to get creative, he thought. Maybe if there was someone older? No, he needed to come at this from another angle because this idea was about sex, not about romance. He wasn’t going to have to woo or flirt or wine-and-dine anyone. All that mattered was that she knew what to do with what he had.

That really made things simpler. A lot simpler. And Gladio was busy all the time right now, so simple was _great_. Why hadn’t he thought this through sooner?

He didn’t realize that he’d been standing there rubbing his hair into a disastrous fluff until he was called back to Eos by Ignis, standing staring at him and asking, “Are you done or are you going to rub yourself bald?”

And that’s when it dawned on him. It was the perfect solution. Ignis wasn’t romantic, he was a guy so he’d know what he was doing, and he was the one who had suggested it in the first place so no way he’d have a problem with it. Plus, as much as Iggy talked about logic and being reasonable, he’d be proud of Gladio for coming up with this. Nobody would get pregnant, nobody would get feelings, and they were both busy as hell and since they were both dudes, it’d be over really fast.

This was a perfect solution. He was a genius.

“I’ve got a great idea,” Gladio grinned, his eyes lighting up, “C’mere, Iggy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gladio and Ignis are both meant to be 16 in this one, it taking place in that space of the year between Ignis's birthday in February and Gladio's in April. Neither has much idea of what they are doing, but that's not going to stop them from trying to figure it out.


	8. Check Cashed and I'm Ready For the Weekend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Access to a Prince is well-controlled, but when you are a Prince who just wants to hang out with your best friend, eating food and reading comics, jumping through all those security hoops is a pain. Noctis thinks it's worth it in the end though.

Noctis leaned against the wall in the entryway of his apartment, staring at his phone as the screen shifted from Battle Mode to regular again. He swiped down and checked the time, then back up again and went back to playing but his whole attention wasn’t on the game. Part of it was vibrating, waiting for a message to come through on his phone, part of it was gently shaking his foot in impatience, and part of it was still kind of in awe over the fact that this whole scheme had worked.

Correction, might have worked. Prompto still had to actually be able to use the pass that he’d been issued to get through the front desk security checkpoint. That’s what he was waiting and hoping to not get a message about. But he was also ready for it and wouldn’t be at all surprised if it happened.

Noctis tapped his heel against the wall some more, waiting for the next battle screen to load. Just getting to here had been uphill work. First Ignis refused to talk to his dad about it, then Cor had just said he’d see what he could do, then came back and said he’d have to ask his father himself.

Cue the scheduling of that conversation, then the having it. Which had been easier than he’d thought it was going to be, but just like with everything in his life it couldn’t be simple. There were conditions that had to be met, then Noctis had to negotiate a few of those down some. In the end it had come down to Prompto and his family being subjected to an intense background check or a less invasive one and King Regis being allowed to meet them all before he agreed. Noctis wasn’t going to put Prompto through meeting his dad, so waiting a month for the background check it was.

All he’d wanted to do was be able to have a friend over sometimes. Sure, he’d said it was to study but everyone knew they’d spend most of their time just hanging out, playing video games, and eating junk food. Sure, homework would get done cause Prompto was good about that stuff, but it’d be really nice to do normal stuff like a normal person.

And that included having people over that were not getting paid to be there sometimes. Sure, Ignis was cool, kinda prone to nagging and weirdly insistent about vegetables, but he was decent company. And Gladio was Gladio and that meant he was loud and demanding. And even thought Noctis knew it all came from a good place, all that expectation and pressure was overwhelming sometimes.

Okay, it was overwhelming a lot of the time. And that wasn’t helped by the fact that he knew his classmates were off doing normal stuff like having sleepovers and going shopping, hitting the arcade and sneaking in to movies. Stuff that he only got to do in the span of the ten minutes that he could ditch the Crownsguard who followed him around at a ‘respectful but diligent’ distance.

In his own place, there was no sneaking out, he could walk out whenever he liked and nobody had to take the fall for it, but he was still watched. Guarded and protected and sure, he understood why but it bothered him a lot. And the more he tried to just not think about it the worse it got. He swore there were times when his back itched from all that observation.

He checked the time on his phone again and made a mental adjustment for Prompto being late. That happened often enough for Noctis to tell himself that no message and no Prompto at his door had to mean a delayed train. That was the reasonable explanation, not that it made the waiting any better.

That talk with his dad had been easier than he’d thought but it had also been pretty terrible. Why did he always have to get that one Look, like he knew exactly what Noctis wasn’t saying, then say something kinda sarcastic like, “If I approve this clearance, I will expect your grades to show evidence of the extra studies.”

Like okay, sure, fine dad. Could he not just let that kind of shit go? Like a normal parent? Gah, everybody pitched what they wanted to do to their parents as something that would be educational and those parents just nodded and waved them off or just said yes. None of this ‘I-know-what-you-are-doing-but-I’m-gonna-hold-you-to-it’ crap.

The sudden pounding on his door made him jump, fumble his phone, and then whack it into the wall in his graceless effort to grab it before it reached the floor. Noctis swore as he opened the door and reached for the phone, nearly falling over in the process of doing both things at once.

“Dude, no need to bow. It’s just me,” Prompto said with a laugh, after realizing that the empty space when the door opened was because Noctis was in the process of tripping. He grabbed Noct by his forearm and hauled him back upright.

“No trouble getting in, then?” It was hard to contain the excitement at the whole thing having come off without a hitch and Noctis didn’t bother to try all that hard. “No armed guards chasing you? No body cavity searches?”

Prompto pulled a face and gave him a hard shove with both hands, “Sick! Have you seen that woman down there? Noooo thanks!” Prompto clicked the door shut behind him and toed off his shoes, leaving them standing neatly by the pile behind the door. “No problems at all. Well,” he admitted with a sheepish grin, “I did swipe the thing backwards, then upside down before I got it right. The old Dragon barely looked at me.”

Noct snorted and led the way into the living room, “Don’t let Ignis hear that. He’d have her replaced with someone who cross-questioned you and ran a q-tip over your shoes to check for drugs.”

Prompto stopped, very still in the middle of the carpet, “Wait, is Ignis here?”

“Nah,” Noct rummaged in the fridge and came up with two bottles of root beer and the makings for sandwiches. Looking at Prompto, he laughed out loud, “Damn, Prompto. I didn’t know he scared you that much!”

“I’m not scared,” Prompto exclaimed, on the defensive. “He’s just all,” Prompto illustrated what he meant with one hand on his hip and the best disapproving, not smiling, look he had to give. “Like, is the guy smiled,” Prompto insisted, dropping the act, “The world would probably end in a giant bang.”

Noct could only laugh again as he fished out bread and started building. Meat, cheese, more meat, some bread. Oh, mustard, mayo. More meat, a different kind of cheese.

Prompto watched Noct as he worked on food before perking up, “Do you have pickles?”

Noctis shrugged and pointed his elbow at the fridge, “Maybe? Help yourself.”

Prompto headed around the bar and did his own rummaging in the fridge, asking, “Has he ever enjoyed anything ever, do you think?”

“Who, Ignis? Probably,” Noct guessed, thinking it over but not really wanting to think about Ignis at all. “Probably enjoys documentaries about sweater vests.”

Prompto had to sit down on the floor in front of the fridge because he was laughing too hard to stay upright and Noct laughed so hard he snorted. Which set Prompto off into hysterics, clutching a jar of pickles and a tomato to his chest as he wheezed helplessly on the kitchen floor with tears rolling down his face.

Yeah, Noctis decided, normal was good even if he had to fight for it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realized after writing this that I've kinda botched my timeline a little. These two dorks are supposed to be 15 in this chapter. So sorry for it being weirdly placed!


	9. Everything Was Fine, Everything Was Mine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life marches on, even hen you are distracted by your own hurt feelings. At least for Ignis, there's the distraction of Noctis being very young and very stupid to keep him in reality.

Ignis was having a really bad day. And it was only going to get worse, he could just feel it.

It started with the fact that he was late waking up. Usually when that happened, it was not more than five minutes, something easy to make up by combining breakfast and getting dressed. But this morning it had been by fifteen minutes, and there was no making up for that. Why his alarm had not gone off at all was still a mystery because he had been so busy running (sometimes literally) between lessons and duties that he had not had a chance to even look at his phone. Then a note caught up with him, summoning him to the Palace for a meeting with the King.

Lunch had barely happened at all and it was on the move as well. A smoothie in the car on the way to the Palace hardly did anything to fill his stomach. Whatever Noctis had done to warrant his father’s attention, it had better be worth it. All the rushing around today had Ignis annoyed at having to be the messenger.

That was something new that he didn’t know how to deal with. It seemed that he’d been annoyed at the world for the better part of three days now. No matter who it was or what they had done, Ignis was put out about it at levels that shocked even him. He’d had to apologize to his Uncle at least four times for snapping at him over nothing, and each time his guilt over it was worse. The man did not deserve that sort of treatment and the fact that he made no comment at all about it only made Ignis feel worse.

He took the back stairs two at a time, grumbling to himself as he went, only to arrive in the antechamber of His Majesty’s rooms to be told that he would have to wait as another appointment ran over.

That was just fabulous. He’d broken at least three traffic laws to get here in time and now he had to wait? For how long? Would this push him even later than he already was? At least it would only be late for training at the Citadel, but _still_. He’d been late all day and this was where he’d hoped to make some of that time up. It wasn’t like King Regis required more of him than to just be a messenger of warnings anyway.

That wasn’t fair and Ignis knew it but he was in no state of mind to be particularly fair. The idleness of waiting grated all the parts of him that he did not want to think about right then. The parts that liked to think things like, ‘life hasn’t been fair to you, why should you be fair to it?’ Which was beneath him and showed a lack of gratitude for everything he did have. And once that little voice had started, it was like someone pulled a brick out of the dam and everything else that he didn’t want to think about came rushing in anyway.

-

_“Gladio,” he’d said, working up the courage to actually ask outright but not actually being quite prepared to, “about the other day….”_

_“Yeah, about that,” he’d said with a lopsided grin, “No big deal, all right?.”_

_Ignis had been slightly surprised at that reaction and the knots in his stomach had released. No big deal? Did that mean that he… that Gladio was actually interested in him? Ignis had smiled, relaxed, “Oh good.”_

_Gladio had reached out and clapped him hard on the shoulder, “Yeah, don’t be so uptight! It’s not like we’re gay or something.”_

_That had thrown Ignis for a loop. He’d not expected Gladio of all people to be as aware of the different sexual orientations as it seemed he was. Surprising, but he wasn’t sure why. Still, it was a nice surprise and Ignis had chucked, “No, I wouldn’t…”_

_Gladio had cut him off there with a laugh of his own and added, “It’s like you said, if all you’re wanting is to get off, it’s not that hard to find someone to help.”_

_And as Gladio had walked away, all the air had left with him. Ignis could have sworn he saw it sucking right out the door with the slam of it behind him sealing off the oxygen supply to the rest of the room. The floor felt like it was moving away from him, the walls closing in. All while Ignis could just stand there and stare._

-

It wasn’t until later that he’d been able to process the level of misunderstanding that had to have happened. It didn’t change the fact that it hurt and hurt was not the word that Ignis liked to use. But all the others felt way to melodramatic to fit something that boiled down to Ignis having been careless with his words and extremely naïve.  Even willfully naïve, now that he was looking back on it.

The backs of Ignis’s eyes prickled, threatening tears but he would not cry here. Not here, in the middle of waiting to speak to the King. Not here, not even ever because what right did he have to cry over something that was his own fault? He’d been the one to read too much in to it. He’d been the one to get his hopes up in spite of the evidence. He was the one who should have known to be content with looking and not touching. He did not deserve the luxury of tears from the sake of embarrassment, because that was all this was.

Ignis took his glasses off and scrubbed at his eyes until they hurt. When he jammed his glasses back on his face, his frown was set back in place and he was determined to not think about this anymore. He was also being offered a tall foam cup of what looked and smelled like black coffee.

“Councilor Amicitia,” Ignis moved to stand out of respect but Clarus just smiled indulgently and shook his head, handing Ignis the cup before settling himself into the next chair.

“You look exhausted,” The Councilor said with a concerned frown.  

Ignis took a long drink of coffee, mindless of it being just a bit too hot for that. The caffeine was a welcome bit of energy and the heat brought him more back to his senses. Because sitting here with Gladio’s father wasn’t weird at all, in light of what he’d been thinking about. Or in light of the fact that not even a week ago he’d been… He wasn’t going to think about that anymore.

“It’s been a long day,” he offered by way of explanation.

“It’s not even one in the afternoon yet,” the Councilor laughed. “But seriously,” he rested a hand on Ignis’s shoulder, “Cor’s told me that you’ve been off this week.”

Ignis sighed and dropped his head to look into the swirl of his cup. Oh this was just wonderful. Nothing escaped the Marshal and even though Ignis had been more inclined to brash decisions and leaving himself open the past few days, it was only temporary. Ignis shifted and took a deep breath. It would not do to lose his temper with a member of the Ruling Council.

“I know it sounds meddlesome, and I apologize,” Clarus offered, “But you must remember that it is your duty to both King Regis and to Prince Noctis to be in top form.”

Ignis stiffened, his level of aggravation rising. Maybe losing his temper wasn’t the biggest threat. Did the Councilor honestly think that he wasn’t aware of that? Did anyone anywhere honestly think that Ignis wasn’t completely alive to the fact that he had a duty to fulfill for the royal family? Would he be sitting here waiting to be disciplined by proxy for something he had no part in if he was not aware of it?

“The King is not in good humor with his son today and you are going to have to hear all about it shortly,” the Councilor offered quietly, “But once that is done, go home. Get some rest. Do whatever relaxes you.”

“I assure you, Councilor, that I am perfectly capable of….”

Clarus cut him off with a squeeze of the hand on his shoulder, “I know you are. But none of us are immune from our own humanity. The Marshal is aware of it and endorses the idea.” Clarus chuckled to himself, “And none of us think that an evening off will lead you down a path of habitual slacking off.”

With that he rose, ending the conversation as the door to the inner chamber opened and Ignis was summoned. “Thank you Councilor,” Ignis said with a nod of his head and Clarus nodded him towards the doors, taking the nearly empty cup from him before he left.

Beyond the doors was a wall of Paternal Unhappiness and it was nearly palpable as Ignis approached the King, bowing deeply.

“First of all,” Regis was doing everything in his power to not put his head in his hands and give up entirely. “Do you know anything concrete about this Argentum boy that Noctis is spending time with.”

Ignis felt a bit caught and very confused for about three seconds. “I know that he is of decent family, that his grades are acceptable, and that he has no criminal record, Your Majesty.”

Regis sighed and tried again, “I meant personally. You have met him, I presume?”

“Once or twice, yes,” Ignis admitted and tried to switch gears mentally. “I find him to be silly, over optimistic, but mostly harmless.”

Ignis tried to read the King’s expression and could only come up with heavy disappointment. Whatever had happened could not possibly be good and if Prompto were involved, it had the potential to be very, very bad.

“May I ask what this is about, your Majesty?”

That look was easy enough to read. It was called shock. “You don’t know?”

Ignis bowed again, realizing that he had made some grave oversight in his distracted state the past several days. Something had gone terribly wrong and he had no idea what it was. Unforgivable.

“Do you not keep up with the Prince’s media accounts?”

“Of course, your Majesty,” Ignis was quick to assure the King that he wasn’t asleep on the job, but he still had no idea what this had to do with anything. He had no notifications of Noctis having posted anything today nor had there been any notification of the Prince having been tagged in anything.

Oh.

Oh _no_.

It took exactly four seconds of looks exchanged between Ignis and Regis for Ignis to pull out his phone and realize why there were no notifications. No messages. No calls. No alarm. His phone was utterly dead.

“Technology has let you down, I see,” King Regis observed as he surveyed Ignis’s face carefully. “No matter. Let me get you up to speed.”

Ignis thanked the Six for an understanding King who would not put him out on his ear because his phone wasn’t working as he approached and accepted that King’s own device with another bow. On the screen was a paused video and Ignis hovered a finger over it until the King closed his eyes and nodded for him to play it.

What came out of the speakers was a lovely, on key, and well played version of a classical piece of music that Ignis actually enjoyed very much but would forever be colored by the fact that there sat Noctis, playing dutifully on the piano in what looked to be his school’s music room, while Prompto sang something about sucking dick before Noctis himself chimed in to finish the video off.

Ignis visibly cringed. That was a painful 6 seconds of his life that he would never get back and as the video started itself over he smacked the screen with more force than was strictly necessary to get it to stop. Echoing around the room once was enough.

“You can imagine,” King Regis intoned without any humor at all, “That this has become very popular.”

Ignis nodded, mute, as he handed back the device.

“I do not object to my son having as normal a life as he can, but there are limits. See to it that he is well aware of those limits and also of my disappointment.”

“Yes, your Majesty.”

“And, though I hate to even say it, if he fails to see the inappropriateness of his actions I will be forced to consider revoking Mr. Argentum’s security clearance.” The King looked pained at this, and Ignis felt for him. He could only imagine how difficult this must be for him.

Ignis’s uncle struggled to understand much of the technology and indeed much of the point behind a lot of it. Ignis had tried to explain and had gotten him mostly to the point where he could at least accept that different generations had different ideas of what was funny, but that must have been even more difficult for the King.

Ignis stood straighter and replied, “I will do everything that I can to see to it that it doesn’t come to that, King Regis.”

“Thank you. You may go.”

Ignis bowed and headed for the door, still mildly stunned by the short video he’d just seen. As he turned to close the door behind him, he couldn’t help but think that the King did look a bit less volatile than he had when he’d arrived.

On the way to his car, Ignis cleared his mind as best he could, dismissing plans for training that night and trying to think of things that were not Gladio. That was almost hopeless, now that the stress of the audience with the King had passed. He finally settled on mentally replaying the idiotic video Noctis and his friend had made and posted for all of Lucis to see.

It was so wrong, such a horrible idea! Why either of them thought that it would go unnoticed? Or had they counted on that all along? Who knew, but Ignis would have to wait to find out. There would be no calling this one in; Ignis plugged his phone in in the car and got no response from the device at all.

The trip over to Noct’s apartment was uneventful save for a wreck on the outbound lanes holding things up for a few minutes and he arrived in good time, pleased that he wasn’t going to have to rush though this and then be somewhere else in less time than was reasonable. The evening off sounded nice, however, so he wasn’t going to linger.

Through the security station and up the familiar elevator, he let himself in to the apartment and was greeted with a spilling backpack and a pile of shoes, just as usual. At least the levels of filth were not at maximum levels yet and there was only one bag of trash that needed taking out.

“If you must insist on having an online presence,” Ignis began without preamble, “Would you please confine yourself to stupid human tricks and not singing about fellatio? Your father is exceptionally displeased.”

Noct looked up sharply from where he was reading a comic book, draped over the arm of the couch, “How does he know about that?”

“He follows you on InstaSnap, Noct,” Ignis deadpanned as he swept crumbs off the counter.

“I didn’t post that to my account,” Noct explained, his brows going together then shooting up his forehead as he scrambled for his phone, cursing.

Ignis gave him a shocked look and watched as he tapped away at the screen, then threw his head back and groaned.

“Trouble?” It was getting hard to not be slightly amused at this situation. It was a very nice distraction from the rest of the day’s worries and thoughts.

“Prompto tagged me in it! I told him not to do that!”

As Noctis attempted to call his friend, Ignis had to chuckle, “He tags you in everything, Noct. Because you are in everything he posts. Did you not know that?”

“No! I mean yeah, I know but still.” There was no answer it seemed and Noctis tried again.

Ignis was starting to feel some level of sympathy for the Prince. Not a lot, granted, but some. Enough to take the trash out and come back with the mail to find Noct flopped out on the couch as he watched the video over and over.

“There’s over 3 million hits on it,” he informed Ignis, his voice flat. “Three million people have watched his video.”

“Yes,” Ignis confirmed with a sage nod. “And perhaps one of them is that poor man who taught you how to play piano when you were nine. How you made him suffer, but how proud he would be to know something stuck.”

Ignis chuckled to himself as he made his way down the hall to the bathroom to check the state of the towels while Noct yelled behind him, “NOT HELPFUL.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Vine in question is, of course, [this one](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lDhPIGgaoRs) by Nick Mastodon & Dustin Hatzenbuhler. It is one of my very favorite ones. RIP Vine.


	10. You and I Collide

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She loves him, really she does. But getting sucked into an ongoing game of 'Troll Your Bros' is not Monica's idea of a good time. Sometimes, you just have to fight the system with the tools you have on hand.

Monica took a deep breath and tried very hard not to repeat herself again. It was a fruitless effort and Cor’s eyebrow rising at the sound was only making the challenge of it worse. She sucked in the side of her cheek, pinching it between her teeth to keep herself from saying it. _Again_.

“I only have one question,” Cor asked, his face a passive mask and his hands valiantly not straying anywhere that could remotely be considered inappropriate. “If you are so uncomfortable, why have you not asked to stop?”

Monica’s face, under scrutiny of anyone but her dance partner, would never be mistaken for anything but pleasant or polite. However, Cor knew better and she did nothing to hide the narrowing of her eyes by a tiny amount. If daggers could have shot from them he would have been very, very dead.

“You know why.”

“Do I?” Damn his fleeting smiles. “You haven’t spelled that one out for me yet.”

“You’re impossible,” Monica bit off keeping her neutral smile intact.

“And you love it.”

Smug asshole.

“I’m still waiting.”

Monica sighed and aimed for small words. “Because the King wills it.”

Cor frowned. He didn’t like that explanation one bit though he could have told that it would probably be the one she chose. It was simple, concise, and summed up her discomfort with his friendship with the King. The truth would be a lot harder to put into words in this setting. And part of that truth was that he wasn’t exactly comfortable with this either.

Her hand on his bicep tightened for a split second; she understood. “This isn’t who we are, Cor. It’s not how we operate.”

It was his turn to sigh but he decided not to reply. She was right, of course. She usually was.

Their ‘we’ wasn’t something that happened on display. It wasn’t something that built or grew with an audience to watch it. It was quiet, private, not out of shame or really even necessity from the beginning. At first, maybe excess caution kept them from being obvious, but it didn’t take long to realize that it just suited the ‘us’ they were building.

And over time, it became a habit. Life was a lot easier when there were very clear lines between work and personal. Hard and fast rules they’d both agreed on – no Crownsguard business got taken to her rooms, on dates, or to bed and no kissing, hand holding, or any other show of affection happened anywhere there was a security camera or anybody they knew by sight – kept their lives simple and running almost to perfection.

Yes, there were gray areas. Car rides across the city and dinner anywhere local were open ended and for some reason the Crownsguard offices and gym seemed to pose a real problem that even years in did not seem to have a solution.

But it worked, _they_ worked. The privacy and professionalism that they both relied on and cultivated meant everything to them and here they both were, having that sorely tested. For Cor, it was deeply aggravating and he was trying to think of a way to relieve Monica’s stress and somehow keep Regis’s armor from getting in a bunch.

For Monica it was an entirely different feeling. She felt coerced into some kind of performance, one that she had no way out of and felt downright terrible for wanting out of at all. How many times had they done this very same thing, in sunlight or moonlight or no light at all while dodging a chair or the edge of the desk? How many times had they held each other closer than this in sweats and bare feet, grousing gently about the right way to fold socks or load the dishwasher? Dancing with Cor was nothing new at all, but here. Now. In this crowd?

She’d sworn her loyalty to King and crown and nothing would ever change her conviction that this was what she was meant to do, how she was meant to spend her life, but never had her King tested her like this. Her elbows and shoulders ached already from the tension she was carrying and there were still hours to go.

“I’ve got an idea,” Cor rumbled, causing Monica to look up at his face quickly, chin cocked to the side. “It is really horrible and you’ll be exhausted afterwards.” He shrugged one shoulder and his cheek twitched, “Maybe.”

“This is going to be awful, is it?”

“Yes, and I’m sorry in advance. But I honestly think that Regis deserves this.”

“Cor, no. I’m not going to stand here and let you do something awful to the King,” she hissed. “Not on my account and not on my watch.”

“Shh,” he insisted, “Hear me out, first.” That earned him a Look but no more words and that was enough of an invitation for him to explain further. “If you are willing to not sit down much at all tonight, we can make this look a whole lot more casual. But we’ll have to be quick.”

“What are you….”

“Shh! Listen. When the music changes, we’ll be next to Clarus who is standing next to Regis. We run this like a Wingman’s Wake, only we get Regis to be the unwitting Wingman. While you keep him busy, I’ll find somebody to cut in.”

How he kept his face so neutral, Monica would never know nor would she ever realize just exactly how blank hers was at that moment. “Wingman’s Wake? You can’t possibly think that is going to work.”

“Clarus has never done it before, he sucked at it. And Regis won’t realize it until it’s too late,” he talked fast, there wasn’t much time.

“Then what’s to keep Clarus from flubbing this?” He was serious. He was dead serious and was about to bait the King of Lucis. This was insane.

“He can’t mess it up when I set him up for it,” Cor only hoped that his confidence in his ability to set Clarus up right wasn’t unfounded.

“Cor,” did her voice just shake? “This is wrong. I took an oath to protect the Royal Family of Lucis and that means from you, too.”

“Nobody is going to get hurt.”

“He’s got a bad knee.”

“It’s early. It’ll be short. He’ll be fine.” Tick tock, tick tock!

“You can’t do this. Clarus can’t manage this.”

“He’s not going to have to because I will.”

“Cor he still hasn’t figured out that we are dating and he walked in to the living room the other day while I was wearing your old Chocobo Charlie shirt and cactuar boxers.”

Cor said nothing because he was eyeing the relative landing spot they would be in once the song ended. This was completely doable.

“Your name was on the back of the shirt.” Monica was either going to panic or trip on purpose in about three seconds if he didn’t get real.

Unfortunately, two seconds later the song ended and there was a lull before it was due to change and she had no choice because by the time she’d lined herself up to trip without getting hurt too much, five more seconds had passed and Cor had already started the Wake.

“Clarus, can you believe that it took this many years to convince Monica to actually dance at a Crownsguard ball?”

She could have killed him on the spot. This was so many degrees of wrong the temperature in the room was ratcheting up.

“Oh, well. I don’t know about that. It’s been at least ten since I did.” He was such a nice man. Why did he have friends like Cor?

“High time you did, Clarus,” King Regis chimed in with a slight smile. “Perhaps Ms. Elshett would be so kind….”

How on Eos was this working? How on Eos was this _working_? Well, maybe she spoke too soon.

“Oh, I’m sure that she wouldn’t want to be forced into company with an old man like me,” he declined with a laugh. “Perhaps you would be the better choice, King Regis.”

Wait what? There were four more steps to the Wingman’s Wake. Probably five with Cor calling the shots from outside and her being along for the ride. How’d they just skip over four key parts of this process?

While Monica was dithering she was missing a silent and heated conversation that was taking place between Cor and the King. It was drastic, it was probably mean, and in the end it was the King who backed down. Even he knew when he’d been out-maneuvered.

And in record time, Monica found herself with a polite smile painted across her face once again as she was led at a much more sedate pace around the ballroom floor by the King of Lucis, Regis Lucis Caelum CXIII. She opened her mouth to make polite conversation but was cut off by a small shake of His Majesty’s head.

“There is a reason,” he began calmly, “That he is in the position of Lord Commander of the Crownsguard. And to be very honest it is because he manages to do things like this almost undetected.”

If she had thought that her discomfort was awful before, it was really nothing compared to this, “I am so sorry, Your Majesty. I did try to stop him, however…”

“Say no more,” he insisted. “I understand completely. If you will forgive the crass expression, he has balls of tempered steel.”

In spite of herself Monica snickered. Who snickered in the presence of their King? She did, apparently and felt the rush of heat up the back of her neck in embarrassment.

Regis wasn’t sure what to make of her laughter, but he felt like it was probably a positive sign. “I promise that I will not have him hanged for _this_. But perhaps I should offer you a raise for having to put up with him,” he mused.

“That won’t be necessary, King Regis,” she insisted, concerned about the mention of hanging anyone. They hadn’t done that in Lucis for 300 years, had they? “I did volunteer, after all.”

“The sainthood, perhaps? No?” He gave a small shrug at her denying head shake and fixed his eyes just beyond her, “It seems your rescue is soon to come. I am sorry for whatever I did to earn Cor’s unhappiness.”

He’d left that open, as if he wanted her to fill in the gap in his information and she considered for a few seconds as to whether she should or not. The dutiful Crown Servant in her came down hard on the side of the truth, but the fact remained that this was just part of something between the two of them – with Monica being well aware of the fact that she did have a part in it even if her enthusiastic consent was up for debate.

“Perhaps that would be a question better suited to the Marshal, as the two of you enjoy a long-standing friendship.”

“You are right, that was unfair of me.” Another easy turn around the room and Monica was starting to scream in her own head before he spoke again. “I am very happy for the two of you.”

The gentleness of his words wasn’t lost on her and her smile went from painted in place to genuine. “Thank you, King Regis.”

His attention snapped over her shoulder and he stopped moving as he said, “It seems I am to be saved from my own excessive ambitions by the son of the man who encouraged them. Gladiolus, you have come to interrupt, I presume?”

Monica’s night was about to take a turn for the hilarious, she was sure. Could Cor have not found anyone else? Did he not realize that she was being put through the wringer already? Keeping up with Gladiolus Amicitia – so many years her junior and so very capable of making her feel every one of those years from his energy alone – was not doing her any favors.

“Be polite, my boy. And Ms. Elshett,” Monica’s completely distracted attention snapped hard back to the King. “Do save the last dance for me?”

“Of course, Your Majesty. It would be an honor.” How she even managed to bow with her spine in knots was a mystery, but she did.

And so the rest of the night passed and so did she from one member of the Crownsguard to another. Exhausted for sure but relieved that she didn’t feel like every eye in the place was on her, the last dance of the ball was called and she sought out the King as promised. Finding him sitting in a plush chair against the wall, chatting seriously with Clarus and Cor, she bowed again before approaching properly.

“You have come to make good on your promise. I am glad to know I have good people at my back,” the Regis said easily. “But I am very sorry to say,” he apologized with a sad frown, “My knee will just not permit it. Perhaps you would be willing to take the Lord Commander in my stead?”

It was very wrong to want to throw things at your King, she knew that. But that did not stop her from wanting to when she realized the long game that he had played. But she was calmer now and just riled enough to push back against being a pawn between two grown men.

“You are very kind to offer,” she said with her best, winning smile, “But he has already had the benefit of my company as had Councilor Amicitia’s son. So perhaps, if he does not object himself, the Councilor himself would like to dance.”

Cor’s pupils dilated with surprise, King Regis’s mouth twitched at the corners as he fought outright laughter, and Clarus happily accepted none the wiser of the nearly treasonous coup she had just pulled off. Let them sort themselves out without her getting in the middle of it. If she had to have blisters from the stupid shoes she was wearing, she would at least suffer with them through one dance of her own choosing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The timing of this chapter is not all that important but it's somewhere around the time that Gladio catches Noctis skivving off training at the arcade with Prompto. Cor is roughly 40 and Monica is 39.


	11. All The King's Horses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Training for the Crownsguard is intense both for those being trained and for those doing the training. For Monica and Cor it's all in a day's work. For Clarus, it's a little less so. And for the young trainees, the level of intimidation can be paralyzing.

Clarus spread orange jam on the last bite of his pastry and skimmed the last page of the newspaper. As if on cue, his Butler and trusted friend, Jared Hester, entered the dining room to clear away the remains of breakfast.

“Jared,” Clarus greeted him with a wide smile, “Excellent meal, as always. I understand that other congratulations are in order?”

Jared beamed, nearly bursting with pleasure and pride, “Thank you, sir. We are all very happy.”

“I’m sure you are. There is nothing quite like a new baby in the family.” If Clarus looked a bit wistful, Jared was not going to call attention to it. “He is healthy and Eleanor is well? Did they ever decide on a name?”

“Yes, sir,” Jared chuckled as he moved dishes to the tray bound for the kitchen, “Everyone is as healthy as can be. After much discussion, they decided to call him Talcott.”

Clarus paused for a second while wiping his mouth and thought. “It is a good name, though,” he added, dropping his voice to a conspiratorial whisper, “I will never understand the fashion in names these days.”

“It isn’t for us to understand,” Jared returned in an equal whisper.

Clarus laughed and admitted that was true before asking, “Have you got pictures of him yet?”

Jared, ever the doting grandfather though he’d only held the office for two days, was happy to oblige his friend, scrolling with him through countless photos on his phone.

“Ahh, Jared. I am envious! Not,” Clarus was quick to admit, “That I am in any rush for grandchildren. Gladio is only just seventeen and Iris is seven! But babies are wonderful and I miss having one about.”

“I will see what I can do to have this one around the place some then, shall I?”

“You know me well. Please do if his parents are not against it.”

Jared nodded and started clearing again. “Will you be in for dinner tonight?”

“No,” Clarus groaned. “I have to participate in some mock encounters tonight.” At Jared’s raised eyebrow, Clarus explained, “Some kind of observation for the newest Crownsguard members. Though how much anyone gains from watching someone else I have my doubts about.”

Jared knew of course, but would not cross his employer for anything, so he remained silent and nodded vague agreement. “Perhaps then I will have the stew Mr. Gladiolus enjoys.”

“No, don’t bother. He is one of the newest. So, you only have to please Iris.” As Clarus left the room, he turned and said, “Within reason, of course.”

“Yes, sir,” Jared confirmed. They both knew that Iris would have popcorn balls and strawberry cake but neither would be willing to admit it.

_

“The purpose of this exercise,” the proctor droned, “Is for you to begin to develop your skills in watching an enemy’s movements and thinking through your own skills in an effort to not waste time or energy in engaging them yourself. As you can’t be expected to do that flawlessly on your first try, you will be watching three badly mismatched pairs or combatants. They are only seeking to knock one another down – we try not to get too gory on your first observation.”

The group of 5 young people – the oldest at 20 and the youngest at 16 – nodded in understanding.

“After each round, you will be asked to share your observations. When all three have completed, it will be your turns in the ring.”

Behind the doors at either end of the training room, two Crownsguard members emerged and saluted one another before wasting no time in engaging one another. It was not evident to the watchers at first where the mismatch came in, but once weapons were summoned it became very clear. While similar in stature and strength, one fought with wide, sharp daggers and the other with a gun.

“Somebody brought a knife to a gunfight,” Gladio observed under his breath.

Ignis scowled without looking at him, “Shut up and pay attention.”

Behind the far –end doors, Monica stood on the tips of her toes to peek out into the training room. She was absorbed in watching the little knot of five new recruits and the proctor that she yelped when someone dug a finger into her side.

“Shh,” Cor scolded with a disappointed shake of his head. “And you call yourself Crownsguard. Shameful.”

Monica snickered and glanced back down the hallway before reaching into his coat pocket and pulling out a blue Happy Hunter hard candy. She frowned up at him and said, “What is this?”

“Yours are in the other pocket,” he explained, turning slightly as he took the blue one, opened it, and popped it in his mouth. He lifted his elbow to give her access to the pocket that held nothing but the watermelon flavor. “I’m still looking out for you.”

“You are definitely a keeper,” she said with a small smile. Happy Hunters were his favorites and the fact that he saved all the watermelon flavored ones for her was sweet – if not a little overwhelming given that she wasn’t that into sweets in the first place.

She peeped back out through the window and asked, “So am I taking Clarus or are you?”

“You can. I want Vaughn tonight.”

“Seriously?” Monica glanced over her shoulder raised an eyebrow. A mismatch was one this but that would be a cakewalk.

“I want to have this over with quickly. I’ve been watching the Scientia boy and he has real promise. This is a good excuse to see what he’s made of.”

“And see if he is as smart as he acts?”

Cor didn’t reply but he did shrug one shoulder. He glanced out the windows and nodded, “Robin looks pleased with what they’ve said and asked. My turn.”

Monica watched him through the doors and snickered to herself with Vaughn realized what he’d gotten himself into. But, he held it together really well and in less than a minute and a half, he was on the floor face down and laughing about it.

It was perfect, honestly. Vaughn’s weapon of choice was his fists and getting up close and personal to Cor, was a mistake. He hadn’t even drawn, using the sheathed blade to lock around Vaughn’s ankles and send him crashing down. And the real beauty of it was that both Vaughn grilled their observers harshly for three times the length of the actual match.

Monica summoned her gloves onto her hands and stretched her arms above her head and headed into the ring next, Clarus coming towards her with a smile and a salute that she returned. He raised his eyebrows to her in surprise and she shrugged, waiting patiently for him to move first.

Because that is what she relied on, was for someone else to start moving, to underestimate her. Clarus knew better of course, and altered his habits because he knew that all she needed was a single tiny opening. She dodged, rolled, ducked his swings that came fast but not fast enough. He closed the distance and she slipped back, back, back then slid to the side before she ran out of room.

Back, back, backing up and still he came, swinging forwards, large arcs along the ground with the flat of his broadsword, not to hurt but to knock off her feet. Closing the distance before she would dodge to the side and back up again.

He knew this routine, had seen it a thousand times and admired it from every angle. She was not a fighter and he had been there when she’d realized it nearly twenty years before. What she was good at was defensive maneuvers and battle support – throwing out what others needed to get ahead be it a potion or a distraction. Clarus had been sure as he’d seen Cor come out first that she was going to distract him somehow. What he hadn’t bargained on was her wearing him out.

That was exactly what she was doing. If she was unkind, she would have called it using his age against him but she was not that mean. It was true though that she could outlast him but that was not the point of this exercise. Minutes dragged on and the weight of his weapon began to tell on him. He slowed by the tiniest amount but it was what she’d been waiting for. Her opening would come soon. Soon. Wait for it, patience.

There it was, a just too long linger after following through with another swipe at her knees and Monica flicked her right wrist, fingers snapping forward to release the whisper-thin lines of monofilament thread that were carefully coiled into her gloves on a hair-trigger. She followed less than a second later with the left hand and the two sets of lines shot forward, tangling around Clarus’s legs. Monica locked her fingers around the lines and hauled up and back with all her strength, just enough to overbalance Clarus and send him into the floor.

Task done, the downside of her lines became evident. She shed her gloves and approached Clarus, extending a hand to help him up. “I will understand if you take advantage of this situation. I am unarmed now.”

Clarus chuckled and moved to accept her hand, only to change course at the last second and grab her ankle, jerking it up and landing her, breathless, on her back. “I earned that,” she gasped, trying hard to laugh with very little air to manage it.

Clarus handed her up off the ground and they made their way, each feeling the hardness of the floor in lingering ways, to the small bunch of onlookers. A short session with them and the other Crownsguard joined them to have their turns one on one.

Monica took a seat next to the proctor to get the run down and do some observing of her own while everyone else took the field. Everyone showed promise it seemed though the Proctor had been disappointed in Ignis’s contributions to the discussion.

“He looked confused by it all, barely said anything the whole time. And what he did say was really obvious. Like your wearing out Clarus or guns being overpowered and long range. I understand that he is reserved, but that seems outright inattentive.”

That made no sense at all to Monica and as she watched Ignis and Cor spar, she could see that he had been paying more attention than that. Because he was reacting like someone who had watched his partner before and taken in every move and was prepared to use it against him if he could. The proctor noticed it too and the two women shared a confused look.

A look that was broken when an errant dagger came flying their direction. Monica shoved the proctor aside and cleared the path at the last second.

“Sorry!” Clarus called from across the room, waving a hand. “Anyone hurt?”

“No,” called the proctor, crossing her arms after getting up, “But try to remember that baseball is an outdoor sport.”

Clarus bowed in apology again and his partner summoned back his weapon before they continued, more instruction than practice going on there.

“Gladio will do well, though he missed most of the Marshal’s round with Vaughn. Excitement, I think,” was her assessment as she regained her seat. “And Quince is going to be amazing. He was giving the answers that I wanted to hear from Ignis.”

The two chatted some more as they watched the proceedings, pleased with how well everyone was doing. Things were winding down and soon the new members were dismissed. The proctor talked with Clarus and Cor before going on her way and the two of them approached Monica to wrap up the evening.

“I’m shocked, to say the least,” Clarus was saying. “I thought that Gladio would at least be capable of paying attention. But other than that we do have a good group this time.”

“You don’t think that Ignis was a bit disappointing?” Monica fished for his opinion.

“No, I don’t. That boy has been in my house too many times for me to not recognize that. He did not speak up because he wanted to be absolutely sure of what he was thinking,” Clarus declared with conviction. “He has a mortal fear of failure, that one.”

Monica raised her eyebrows and Cor looked thoughtful. “He was definitely thorough in action. He came very close to landing me on my ass more than once, so he knew what to look for and how to exploit it.”

“Then why didn’t he?” Monica asked.

“He’s too slow. Mark my words,” Cor stated with a note of finality, “Once he gets over this fear of failure, he will be a force to be reckoned with.”

Monica did not want to but she still doubted that. A fear of failure? That hit very close to home for her and she knew how hard that fall could be. But she wanted them all to succeed, to achieve whatever goals they had. As the three left the training room, shutting off lights and checking doors as they went, Monica decided that while she could not smooth his path, she would at least keep an eye on Ignis Scientia.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Timing notes! I don't even know if anyone cares about these at this point. Clarus is 51, Cor 41, Monica is 40. Ignis is 17, Gladio 18. 
> 
> If you'd like, you can imagine Noctis and Regis having a rather uncomfortable meal together at the Citadel while this is going on and little Iris eating a very large slice of blue and yellow frosted cake while watching cartoons.


	12. Can't You Just Let Me Be

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ignis and Gladio have become friends at last, both of the appreciating the better qualities in the other and what they have to offer in terms of guidance for the Prince. But Ignis still wants more and when the opportunity arises, who is he to say no?

There were actually rules in the Amicitia household. Most all of them were a direct result of some child or another over the span of the years having done something because it seemed fun only to end up injured. It was that way when Clarus’s father had been young and thought swinging from the hall chandelier was possible. It was that way when Clarus himself used the tree in the back yard for practice with his first sharp sword. It was that way when Gladiolus attempted to make Cup Noodles in the oven when the microwave was broken. It was even that way when Iris used the staircase as a ski jump.

But what Clarus had not been ready for was having to make a rule when the child in question wasn’t his to begin with. Make no mistake about it, Ignis was always welcome at house Amicitia and Clarus had come to expect him to be there at least two nights a week. He was polite, grew in confidence daily, and provided enough of a challenge to Gladio’s still a little juvenile habits that Clarus had no fear of anyone dying or the house being burned down when he was there.

After all, those Cup Noodles had been for Prince Noctis.

“What on Eos…!” Clarus muttered as he found his path suddenly blocked by Ignis having dropped from what could only have been the balcony above.

“DAMNIT IGNIS!” Gladio roared from above, “THAT’S NOT FAIR!”

To his credit, Ignis at least had the grace to shoot up straight out of the crouch he landed in with his face already in a deep pink blush. Ignoring Gladio completely as he continued to rage from above, Ignis swallowed hard as he said, “Good afternoon, Lord Amicitia.”

Clarus took pity on him almost immediately but wouldn’t have shown it for the world. Frowning darkly, he pressed his lips together and knit his brows. “What is the meaning of this?”

“A race, sir,” Ignis held himself very still for someone who just fell? Jumped? From at least twelve feet up. “To the back garden. Loser starts our sparring match at a disadvantage of the winner’s choice.”

Clarus opened his mouth to either shut down this operation or to ask Ignis what exactly he was going to name as the disadvantage when his train of thought was derailed by Gladio landing far less gracefully on the floor at their feet, still swearing a black streak.

“Language, son,” Clarus advised, his most stern face and commanding voice making him seem to take up the whole of the hallway. “If the two of you wish to race, kindly do it in the street or on a track. I never want to see or hear of another person coming over the railings of this house again.”

Gladio picked himself up while his father was talking and brushed off his pants, head down as he answered, “Yes, sir.”

Ignis echoed the affirmation with his ears still extremely pink and Clarus moved out of the way for them to continue on. Kids these days, he thought to himself. Then corrected, because 18 year olds were not exactly kids, were they? But then again, they sort of were.

“You better be glad he didn’t see that backflip you did,” Gladio said, shoving Ignis as they rounded the corner and headed out the door. “But if he had he might not have said anything at all.”

“I have never been so embarrassed in my whole life,” Ignis sounded a little breathless and knew that he was quite pink.

“Eh, it’s not so bad. The old man’s not mad,” Gladio shrugged and squared off against Ignis just as usual. “If he had been, we’d still be standing there getting yelled at.”

 “That is cold comfort,” Ignis replied, “I should never have done it in the first place. It’s terribly disrespectful.”

“He’s got two kids that are nine years apart in age. He’s used to everything by now,” Gladio shrugged.

Ignis elected to not reply again, trying to tamp down the urge to creep back into the house and out the front door for having been so foolish. Gladio could be as nonchalant as he liked, but Ignis was a guest. A guest who had just done a backflip off the upper balcony on a lark and landed directly in front of the head of this household and King Regis’s Shield and Councilor. Very smooth. Very mature. _Mortifying_.

The pair began their sparring match, hand to hand with nobody at a disadvantage as they’d been robbed of their race. It took a long time, Ignis faster and Gladio stronger, but eventually Ignis did have to concede. He was no match for his friend under these circumstances.

Sweaty but both satisfied that they’d done well, they collapsed in the grass and discussed their performances. As usual, Gladio needed to work on his speed and as usual, Ignis needed to work on his grappling. That was becoming a theme for them and neither was all that sure that they’d get past those things.

Gladio checked his watch and rose to his feet, “You staying for dinner?”

“No, I want to make an early night of it but I still have time to proofread your paper if you’d like?” Ignis, though younger by almost a year, had finished his studies eighteen months prior thanks to being eligible for some dual enrollment courses with the Citadel branch of the university. Gladio was doing well, but an extra set of eyes over his essays helped as he was inclined to be sloppy.

Gladio nodded and suggested, “If you wanna go clean up, I’ll grab snacks from the kitchen. But,” he said with a hand out in mock seriousness, “Take the stairs, not the grappling hook in your pocket.”

Ignis groaned and offered Gladio a rude gesture, belatedly hoping that Gladio’s father didn’t catch that from the back windows of the house before heading off at a reasonable pace and via traditional paths to shower and change. He made quick work of the job tried very hard not to notice Clarus as the older man walked through the hall below on his way back to Gladio’s room. He was certain that the elder Amicitia was glaring at him, daring him to even look too hard at the banister.

Ignis let out a breath he didn’t know that he was holding when he clicked the door shut behind him.

“Stuff’s on my desk,” came Gladio’s muffled voice from deep within his closet.

He certainly wasn’t lying about that. There was a LOT of stuff on his desk. The tray of snacks, about half an inch worth of papers, books, receipts, folders, and magazines covered most of the surface. Thankfully the paper was on top. Ignis grabbed it and a handful of W&E’s and stretched out across the end of the bed to start reading.

Gladio left and returned about the time that Ignis finished. “How’s it look?”

“Not bad,” Ignis said, “You’ve just got a few spelling errors to fix.” He was careful to not tell Gladio that the basis for his argument was flawed, that was the job of his tutor. Ignis was only here for grammar and syntax.

“Awesome,” Gladio parked himself on the floor at the foot of the bed and looked through the places Ignis had marked. “Wait, I thought that ‘principal’ was the right way to spell that?”

“Not in this case. PrinciPAL is a person. PrinciPLE is a point.”

Gladio made a noise that equated to the sun coming up then shook himself and tossed the paper back over to his desk. “Thanks, I owe you one.” He fidgeted a little with the nap of the carpet, pushing it back and forth, making designs with his fingertips.

“Glad to help,” Ignis said, popping the last candies into his mouth. “I’m going to miss these. Aren’t finals soon?”

Gladio looked up, a little lost for a second before his thoughts caught up to Ignis’s. “That’s right, you’re having your wisdom teeth out.” Gladio made a face and shook his head. “I don’t envy that. But yeah, two weeks.”

Ignis rolled his eyes. “You’ll have to be mindful of your time while I’m out of commission. It’ll only be a few days, but Noct’s got several things he needs to be doing during those days. That’s all going to be on you, I’m afraid.”

“I don’t mind,” Gladio assured. “Just go have your teeth cut out and get back quick. I haven’t maxed out my babysitting skill.” Ignis rolled his eyes again and Gladio seemed abstracted again.

Ignis toyed with the idea of asking what was on his mind, but he wasn’t sure that he was willing to dig that deeply. It’s been almost two years since their foray into miscommunicated and fumbling sex. It hadn’t happened again and Ignis was thankful for that to an extent. But it had also made his life difficult.

Because Gladio only got more attractive with time and having that bit of mystery removed meant that Ignis’s fantasies had gotten much more graphic. And pervasive. And they did not have the decency to happen when he was alone. Or at least they hadn’t until he’d managed to learn how to shut them out with lists of things to do and places to go and duties and responsibilities.

Maintaining their friendship was a struggle of a different sort and all the work it seemed had been on Ignis’s end. Not seemed, though. It _had_ been all his because he was the one who had wanted more. More than some casual encounter in a gym shower and a return to life as usual the next day. _He_ had wanted more, _he_ had been the one hurt, and that was _his_ problem to deal with. And deal he had, mostly. It had taken time and a lot of effort and about six months of lingering abject misery but he had dealt with it.

Dealt with it and learned a lot in the years that had passed. The time between being newly 16 and 19 in just a few months had been a trial by fire both personally and professionally. His studies had been fast-paced and brutal, his duties to Noct had doubled then tripled and occasionally quadrupled when Noct was being particularly obstinate. He’d moved out of his uncle’s home and into the Citadel to be more conveniently located, dated a perfectly nice girl for about a year (until time became an issue,) managed to get damned close to perfect wielding daggers, discovered a natural inclination for magic he hadn’t known he had, started cooking so that Noct didn’t die of malnutrition or chemical inhalation under Gladio’s care, and started sitting in on Ruling Council meetings. It’d been a bit busy.

All the same, nothing changed the fact that he found Gladio distractingly attractive and, when he was being completely honest with himself, would not turn down the chance if it presented itself again. He’d even gone so far, in those moments before sleep, to consider how he would react if Gladio should ever suggest they do it again. Not that it would ever happen, of course.

But he still walked a fine line, because attraction could easily get out of hand as he knew well enough. Had Gladio stayed quiet when Ignis began to question him before Ignis would have ended up making a fool out of himself and causing a lot of damage. Because he couldn’t just think about himself. No, if he and Gladio somehow failed to see eye to eye or manage to not communicate effectively with one another, there might come a time when that would negatively impact Noctis in his duties as Prince and later – _much_ later if the God’s were kind – when he was King. That would be wholly unacceptable, unforgivable, and was something that Ignis was prepared to do nearly anything to avoid. So, he weighed his options in any serious conversations with Gladio since, he waited, anticipated where he was going, and adjusted his approach to meet Gladio wherever he was.

Unless he was being an idiot, in which case Ignis would tell him as much outright. He might have wanted romance, love, and sex from the man but he was far from a complete fool. And sometimes Gladio didn’t just brush up against stupidity, he ran right in to it at full speed with his eyes closed.

Ignis was thinking on this, having nearly decided to just assume that it was taking on Noct’s wrangling that had Gladio thoughtful and go from there, when the impossible happened. Gladio turned in his spot, reached for Ignis’s head, and pulled him forward into a firm kiss.

Ignis froze, his mind both a blank and racing as it scrambled for a reaction. This was nice, it was great, perfect! Insane and absolutely the wrong thing to do and it wasn’t going to end well at all. Or maybe it would end magnificently, given the twist of Gladio’s fingers in his hair and how insistent he was on his tongue being in his mouth.

Ignis could feel himself melting, welcoming every touch and returning kiss for kiss. Grab for grab. Tugging at clothes and hair and moving, shifting, getting in each other’s way. It was when Gladio reached for his glasses however that Ignis snapped back to reality.

“No.” He swatted Gladio’s hands away. Gladio looked confused and Ignis narrowed his eyes. “If this is what you want, it will be on my terms.” That sounded a whole lot more forceful coming out than it did in his head and he decided to just roll with it. He did have to look out for himself, after all. Gladio was a friend. Not a partner, not even a lover.

Gladio smirked and reached for his glasses again, looking amused this time as Ignis slapped his hands down again. “Iggy, what the hell…..”

He didn’t get a chance to finish because Ignis’s left hand closed carefully but firmly around his throat. “You trust me?” Where was this _coming_ from?

Gladio nodded, mute.

He swallowed hard and Ignis could feel his Adam’s apple roll against this palm and he smiled. “Good. I won’t hurt you unless you tell me to, but I make the rules. Do you understand?”

Another mute nod of understanding and Ignis realized there was no point in trying to sort out how or why or where this came from. Not right now. Not when such a sweet shade of pink was creeping over Gladio’s chest and his eyes went a shade darker and his hands went limp at his sides.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've had a headache for a week, so apologies if this makes little to no sense.
> 
> NEW: There's smut for this one! It's not necessary to the plot here, so it is is't own stand-alone fic. It's [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10844835), it's explicit, and there's dom!Iggy and sub!Gladio, lots of hair pulling, and Gladio learns some manners.


	13. Take a Deep Breath and Don't Be Shy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It is a very serious thing, your first kiss. And when you want it to be right and not end up making a mess or a fool of yourself, who are you going to go to for help but your equally clueless best bro? It's just icing that it's so easy to get the hang of it, right?

 

Noctis let out a huff of laughter at Prompto’s question, “You have to ask?” If he was getting just a little pink at his collar it wasn’t his fault. Prompto shouldn’t ask dumb questions.

“Oh,” Prompto said, looking slightly confused. “Really? I mean, I just thought that you would have by now. I mean, there’s plenty of girls who’d be happy to volunteer.”

Noct was defiantly going red up his neck now. “Yeah well none of them have brought it up to me. Why are you asking me this?”

Prompto, slightly oblivious to just exactly how uncomfortable his best friend was because he was pretty miserable as well, fiddled with the strap of his bag as he looked at the ground. The trees. Anywhere but Noct’s face so he wasn’t admitting this and being judged for it.

“Well, I mean. You know Hui?”

Noct confirmed he knew of their classmate and he also knew where this was going. “You can’t quit thinking about her?”

“Yeah,” Prompto forgot to be embarrassed for a second, drawing the word out as he thought about the object of his affections.

“Well, she likes you to, so what’s the problem?”

Prompto remembered embarrassment then, and with a vengeance. “Dude,” the word conveyed every ounce of teenage pain that the sixteen-year-old could possibly muster, “I’ve never so much as held hands with anybody.”

Noct couldn’t hold back a snort of laughter, “It can’t be that hard.”

“Noooct!” Prompto’s reaction might have been a little overdone but that stung. “It’s not the hand holding I’m worried about!”

“Oh.” Light dawned. “OH. Uh. Well.” Noctis fumbled with words and trying to figure out what to tell Prompto. Sure, he’d seen movies and tv shows where there was plenty of kissing but practical, first hand experience? He had exactly none. “Have you checked online?”

Prompto slumped forward as they walked, “Yeah, but it’s all so cheesy.” And rude. Every article or how to that he’d found worded it like this was the most basic thing in the world and that anybody who didn’t know what they were doing was stupid. He didn’t need that kind of pressure.

“What am I gonna do, man?”

Noct felt sorry then for having laughed at Prompto, even if it hadn’t been _laughing at him_. Because if he was honest, he probably would be freaking out a whole lot worse than this if it were him. And he was really glad that it wasn’t him because at least Prompto didn’t have the worry of kissing the ‘wrong person’ and bringing down the wrath of the whole of Lucis on his head. If there was anything that wasn’t fair, it was that.

But the thought of that made him suddenly determined to help Prompto with this problem. He thought hard as they walked , brows wrinkling together as they headed on towards the Coernix station and way more Adamantoise Dew than was good for anyone. There was an idea tickling his brain but he couldn’t quite make it form.

Finally, he gave up. “I don’t know,” he admitted freely. “But I know who to ask to find out.”

“No. No way. I know that look and I’m not going anywhere near Ignis. Not with this.” Prompto actually backed up a few paces, hands up, eyes wide as he sucked in his lower lip. He might not know what to do about kissing a girl but he still had his pride and there was no way he was going to ask the uptight Ignis – in his starched shirts and serious glasses – about anything if he could help it.

“No, slow down!” Noct stopped too and hurried to reassure Prompto. “I’m not going to make _you_ talk to him. Chill.” Noct didn’t understand Prompto’s nervousness around Ignis but he didn’t have to. Prompto relaxed and they resumed their walk and Noctis explained, “No, I’ll ask him.”

“That’s worse,” Prompto squeaked.

“Will you shut up? I’ll ask him like it’s for me. I’ll get lectured, but I think I can manage it.” Noct’s mind worked over exactly how to phrase everything but let it go to stew on it for a little while. He’d come up with something.

“Really? Aw, man! You are the best!” Prompto threw an arm around Noct’s shoulders, shoving him forward and both of them stumbling a little.

“Yeah, I know. Now come on. I’ve got stuff to do later and I still need to kick your ass at Mario Kart.”

__

Noctis padded in slowly, toweling off his hair and greeting Ignis with a grunt. While he’d washed off the sticky, sweaty grossness from training, he’d gotten an idea of how to approach Prompto’s problem without getting a lecture.

Because he’d already gotten lectured by Gladio for being sloppy and by Crowe, the Glaive who was helping him mater warping. He didn’t get why his dad couldn’t help with that, but Noctis didn’t want to think about that so he didn’t.

He slid on to a barstool and watched Ignis cook for a few minutes before he started, “So you know Prompto?” When Ignis hummed in confirmation, Noct went on, “He’s kinda worried ‘cause he’s wanting to pick up a new skill but he’s not sure where to start. I want to help, but I don’t know how either.”

Vague? Yes, but also hopefully casual enough that Noctis could get some good general information to get started.

“Generally,” Ignis began as he checked his recipe, “Reading about something is where to begin. The internet has a wealth of information about anything but it can be hard to find reliable information.”

“Yeah,” Noct agreed, “He’s not had any luck finding anything he can understand.” Not a complete lie. Who could understand being a jerk just because somebody didn’t know how to kiss?

“Then perhaps the library would be of help,” Ignis suggested.

Noctis nodded and tried to set his face in neutral lines as Ignis turned to put a plate in front of him. He nodded his thanks and picked up his fork, raking the mushrooms off the steak as soon as Ignis’s back was turned.

“And of course,” Ignis said, then paused, frowning and giving Noct a look of utter weariness when he turned back, “Once he has the basics, practice is key.”

Noct hadn’t thought of that. But how did one practice kissing? He’d have to think about that one, but on a full stomach.

“What is it that he’s wanting to take up?” Ignis asked conversationally.

 

Noct was stuck. He’d not thought this far ahead and he had to be quick about it. Which meant, “Oh, there’s a new phone game he’s wanting to try, but it’s really competitive.” Lying.

Ignis looked disappointed again, but hid it well enough. “Then in that case, perhaps there are videos online that could help.”

Here was new food for thought. Noct knew that asking Ignis was the right thing to do. “Yeah?”

“Yes. I prefer podcasts myself because I don’t have time to devote to watching long programs, but I can’t think that Prompto has as busy a schedule as I do.”

They ate in silence for a while and Noctis thought hard. It was right to ask Ignis, even if he did have to lie to manage it. And no lectures, which was great. He made plans to comb through his movies and have Prompto search for videos. They’d skip the library, though. There wasn’t going to be anything there about how to get your smooch on.

“What game is it that he’s wanting to try?”

Oh no! Think fast! “King’s Knight.”

“I haven’t heard of it,” Ignis said as he cleared the dishes and began washing up.

Noctis had to commit to this lie now. “I hadn’t either, but Prompto really wants to play. I might get an account if it looks cool.”

“So long as it doesn’t take up too much of your time I can’t see anything wrong with that. Speaking of your time,” Ignis gestured to his bag with his elbow, “Your engagements are in my calendar. Best go over them and put them in your phone so you don’t forget.”

__

“We just watched a hundred years of kissing scenes and I still don’t think I know what to do.” Prompto felt like his eyes were going to fall out of their sockets. He scrubbed at them with the hells of his hands and blinked as he crashed back against the couch at Noct’s apartment.

All around the two of them were empty bottles of Jetty’s, AdamDew, packets of chips, plates with crumbs and a stray piece of lettuce. Noct was surrounded by empty fruit snack bags and a half-eaten SnoBall was making a sticky spot on the arm of the couch.

Noct, for his part, was looking kinda glazed over and concerned at the same time. “There’s gotta be a way though. I mean, come on.” He gestured vaguely in the direction of his computer, “We both read those horror stories. How are you supposed to get anything from watching all this scripted stuff when the threat of getting spit in her hair is so real?”

“Don’t,” Prompto begged, flopping to the side and burying his face in the cushions. “It’s hopeless! I’m moving to Liede and living with the havocfangs.”

“No, don’t do that. They’ve got more hair than anybody I’ve ever met.” Noct smiled at his own joke as Prompto groaned.

Silence reigned for several minutes and Noctis thought hard. Prompto was really upset, this wasn’t just him overreacting. He wanted to get this right and not screw it up or embarrass himself or Hui. Noct could relate to that and he didn’t want that for his best friend either. Surely there was something else?

“Maybe it’s not really as hard as we think,” he offered. “I mean, it looks pretty easy, right? And we all know that Ioan Hrabe is a shitty actor anyway. So if he can manage it….” Noct trailed off with a shrug as Prompto rolled over and looked at him with one eye.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Noct was starting to believe himself. “And the guy who got spit in his girl’s hair? He even said they’d been drinking. So I guess as long as you stay sober it can’t be that hard.”

Prompto wasn’t so sure but he did like the sound of these arguments. “Yeah? But what if I miss?”

Oh. Noct hadn’t thought of that.

“Or what if I go in for a kiss and she moves? What if she goes in and I don’t realize it?” He was on a roll now, imagination needing next to no fuel. “What if it’s exactly like the movies and after the first one goes ok and I’m off the hook but she wants to do it again right away and I’m not prepared?” Prompto was getting progressively louder and more panicky, hands starting to flail as he sat up and grabbed Noct’s shoulders.  “DUDE WHAT IF THERE’S TONGUE?!”

Okay, this was too much even for Noctis. In the face of such worry and exploding panic he had to do something. Anything. Prompto needed him to be the better man right now, to step up, take control, rein this in.

“Calm down! Listen, I asked Ignis and he said that anything you wanted to do would only get better with practice. Like riding a bike or getting good at a game.”

This made Prompto pause. This made sense. Nothing he’d ever learned had come overnight. He’d had to practice algebra, Mario Kart, and he was getting better at taking pictures. He’d have to work at this. Oh, but he couldn’t do it with Hui, that wouldn’t be fair. She’d laugh at him for sure if he went in not knowing anything. But how did you practice kissing somebody alone? Well, you didn’t.

This was a problem. He and Hui liked each other, yeah but they weren’t dating. Neither of them had worked up the courage to ask yet and Prompto hadn’t because of this whole kissing thing. He bit his lip while he considered his options.

Noct was glad that Prompto seemed to be calming down now, relaxing as he chewed on his lip. Noct relaxed too, patting Prompto’s shoulder. “Right, just relax, ok? It’s not the end of the world.”

“Yeah,” Prompto nodded, a half-formed idea coming out of his mouth before he really even knew what it was about, “So like, if I kiss somebody else first, then I can skip the horrors? Right?”

Noctis squinted at Prompto, slightly confused. “Well, I guess. But I thought you wanted to kiss Hui.”

“Duh, yeah. But I can’t _practice_ on her. That’d be embarrassing and she’d probably not like me very much. So, gotta find somebody else.” Prompto illustrated his thought process with his hands, almost thwacking Noct in the face as he gestured.

“Where are you going to find somebody willing to be your slobber daemon test subject?” Noctis laughed and ducked a hand.

Prompto shrugged and thought about this for a minute. “Why not you?”

“Dude, I do not want your spit in my hair.”

“You are really hung up on that,” Prompto observed drily. “If I promise not to get spit in your hair or on your shirt, it’s perfect.”

“How do you figre that?” Noctis asked raising his eyebrows. “Neither of us know what we’re doing.”

“Exactly,” Prompto said, giving his shoulder a shove. “Killing two birds with one stone. We’ve watched everything there is, read what’s not mean. So we work out the knots with each other then we will be ready for anything or anybody that comes along.”

Noct considered this for a minute, his face going from disbelief to consideration and finally acceptance of this wisdom. “Okay, I’m game. “

“WOOO…”

“But don’t drool on me at all.”

“HOO! Fair enough!” Prompto blinked, considering before he asked, “So who’s gonna start?”

Noctis rolled his eyes and ignored the sudden addition of a flock of angry butterflies in his stomach as he leaned forward. “You are such a dork.”

It was a little easier than he’d been expecting. Noctis hadn’t realized how soft a kiss could be because there were hard teeth just behind lips. So he’d sort of figured that there’d be some kind of firmness to a kiss. But there wasn’t. And Prompto’s mouth on his was really soft, gentle. He smelled like his blueberry chapstick at this proximity, and his face was soft under Noct’s hand too.

Oh, maybe this was kind of intuitive then. Because he didn’t remember putting his hand on Prompto’s cheek. And he watched Prompto’s wide, too-blue eyes widen, then blink closed as  they both relaxed, getting used to this new experience.

New experience that was denying him some air, which he knew he needed but damned if Noctis wasn’t annoyed by the need to breathe right then. This was _nice_ , he didn’t want it to end. The need for air was ignorable, surely?

Nope.

They both let go at the same time, gasping as they both took a long breath. Noctis hadn’t noticed before now that Prompto had his arms around him, but that was nice too and he was glad Prompto didn’t seem to be in a hurry to let him go.

“Yeah, this is pretty easy,” Prompto nodded, a little pink rising in his cheeks.

“Yeah,” Noct agreed, shifting a little. “Noses aren’t as weird as I thought.”

“You thought that too?”

“Yeah. But it’s not a problem, I guess.”

“Nah.”

This time it was Prompto who kissed Noct, his arms tightening, fingers balling into the back of his shirt. Eyes closed, he melted against Noctis, warm and happy and comfortable. This was the best thing ever, with Noct’s hands on his face and his lips pressed against his. Prompto’s fears drifted away and he relaxed.

What had he been so scared of? This was perfect! Why’d he even waited so long to try? He could do this for days.

Prompto made a noise and his eyes snapped open as Noct’s mouth moved, his tongue probing his lips. Wow, just wow. That was a whole new level of warm, soft. He didn’t have the words for what it felt like to have Noct’s tongue in his mouth but it was even better than just a regular kiss.

It felt so personal. More personal than sharing clothes or drinking after each other or anything really. His face burned and he knew he was bright red but he didn’t care. He just didn’t, no matter how embarrassing it was that this kiss was just a little bit too wet now because it felt so…. He didn’t know because nice and good weren’t strong enough. He just knew that he didn’t want this to end anytime soon.

So when Noct backed off, Prompto sighed and pouted.

“Dude, I told you not to get spit on me,” Noct grouched, swiping a hand over Prompto’s mouth as he snickered.

“That’s all you, bro,” Prompto laughed. “I’m the one who’s all drippy.”

Noct frowned and huffed, “You need more practice.”

“So do you, man. Maybe a towel, too.”

Prompto snorted again as Noct grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him closer. “I’ll get you a bucket, then.”

“Ass,” Prompto managed to get out before they kissed again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I got stuck. I couldn't decide where to go next or who to deal with, but I felt like we needed some young, happy crap before I tried launching to to anything too terribly serious. So here's this chapter! Prompto and Noctis are 16 and neither of them is socially adept enough to even ask someone on a date let alone go in for the liplock.


	14. Don't You Worry About Tomorrow Cause Tomorrow Ain't Tonight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarus, Regis, and Cor might have the market cornered on holding a friendship together through the years, but as for forging the bonds that will last a lifetime, Prompto takes the medal for being willing to go the extra mile (and the extra dumpster) to save Noctis from himself.

“How did you manage to just forget,” Prompto bit into the apple he’d just polished on his shirt and showed very little sympathy for Noctis just now. “It was THE winter term project. Everyone has been talking about it for weeks.”

Noctis shrugged and pulled his hoodie further down over his face, “I don’t know! I just did and now I’ve got to find nine more bugs before Tuesday afternoon so I don’t lose 20 percent of my final grade.”

Prompto sighed and shook his head. His bug collection for winter term was already finished, all the nasty little dead things pinned neatly to foam board. Yeah, some of the wings were not whole and some were a little flat, but he’d refused to kill anything himself in the name of a school assignment, so he’d take the dock in points for aesthetics. He had more than enough specimens to make up for it.

“What are you gonna do, dude?” It was January and Insomnia was frigid. It snowed some, but it mostly turned to slush in the streets that froze over at night and made a sheet of ice for the next morning. Finding Bugs for an insect collection wasn’t going to be easy at all.

“I dunno. I’ve combed every corner of my place and there’s not so much as a spider to be found. Ignis is too thorough.”

“I’d invite you to search around my place, but I keep it pretty neat. I’m not sure you’d find anything there.” Prompto thought hard. Noctis looked so dejected and he had been really, really busy with royal stuff recently. A little forgetfulness was understandable.

They’d need somewhere warm enough, with food and maybe a little gross that the bugs would go for. Prompto surveyed his apple and an idea started to form. Bugs needed to not be frozen and have plenty to eat without having to go too far in the cold.

“Hold up, maybe we could go check the alley behind the noodle stand,” he suggested, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

“What? You mean go dumpster diving for bugs?” Noctis looked appalled at the idea but realized that it wasn’t like he was going to have many options. If he didn’t want this to get back to Ignis or his dad, he would probably have to sacrifice some of his dignity.

And between Noctis Lucis Caelum and Prompto Argentum there existed an unspoken rule that Things Did Not Make It Back To Ignis Or The King. End of discussion.

“If it comes to that, yeah.” Prompto polished off his apple and chucked the core in the trashcan. “We’ll need to go incognito ‘cause the Prince face-down in a dumpster won’t look good on the front page. But I think it’s doable.”

Prompto’s mind was working quickly over what would need to happen to make this work. “We can stop by my place and get some old clothes for us both. A baggie for bugs, maybe a flashlight?”

Noctis was actually warming to this idea, mostly because Prompto seemed so sure it would work. And Prompto worried about everything, so if he wasn’t worrying, Noctis decided that he wouldn’t either. “Whatever you say. I’m in your hands.”

Half an hour had them both standing in front of Prompto’s closet, surveying his wardrobe and wondering what was going to work best. Noctis could wear his own pants, black pants weren’t a big deal, but he’d need a shirt, jacket, and probably a hat.

“I think this’ll work,” Prompto reached in and pulled out a worn blue t-shirt with faded lettering advertising Galdin Quay. “It’s the one I wear when I paint or do stuff in the garden so a little bit of gross won’t be a big deal.”

Noctis accepted the shirt and nodded. It was really soft and had a spot of paint on the sleeve the same color as Prompto’s bedroom walls. He tugged his shirt over his head and tossed it on the bed before starting to wiggle into Prompto’s.

Prompto paused with his mouth open to appreciate the view of a half-naked Noctis when he turned around, gold and white Speedy Chocobo hat in hand. He sighed quietly, smiling at the expanse of pale skin on his chest and belly. He really was beautiful.

“Stop creepin’ on me, Prom,” came the warning, just before Noct’s head popped out of the shirt.

“I’m not creepin’!” Prompto jammed the hat on to Noct’s head and crossed his arms. “I’m admiring. There’s a difference.”

“Uh-huh. Creeper,” Noct teased, swatting at Prompto before straightening the cap on his head.

“No creepier than you copping a feel of my ass on the train the other day.”

“That was an accident!”

“You grabbed my butt and held on for dear life.”

“My hand slipped!”

“Uh-huh. Keep telling yourself that, buddy,” Prompto pulled two long sleeved shirts out of his closet and tossed one to Noctis. He knew better and this wasn’t the first time they’d given each other a hard time about… whatever this was.

Noct shrugged into the slightly oversized shirt and buttoned a few buttons before crossing his arms. “I will, thanks,” he smirked, leaning well into Prompto’s personal space.

“Come on, Bug Prince,” Prompto shoved a jacket into his hands and made for the door. “We do have work to do you know.” Whatever this was, it was good. But for right now? “You need bugs, not hugs.”

Noct groaned and followed along behind, wishing that he could have more of the latter and less of the former.

Another hour had them four very dead insects richer and both of them creeping around the back alleys of Insomnia, peering into the grates of cars and nasty corners. They’d found two types of spider, a roach, and a black wasp and were currently hoping to find a red one.

“They are a lot more common,” Prompto was saying as he picked up what he hoped was an expired bee only to realize it was a cigarette butt covered in gutter ooze. “Aw, nasty! Dude, you so owe me for this.”

“You’ve said that five times already,” came the muffled reply, followed by a sound of joy. “Prom, ditch that roach! I found a bigger on…. ARGH! IT’S ALIVE!”

The ensuing backwards scramble landed Noct on his backside in the alley’s dubious filth heap and his hand was on something sticky. Something sticky that would have been a great addition to the baggie containing his final grade had he not just squished it.

He sighed and sat still for a while. “I think this is hopeless,” he admitted, forlorn.

“Nah, don’t give up,” Prompto insisted, clapping him on the shoulder and helping him up with his not-sticky hand. “We got four in just two blocks! Let’s hop on the train and go a little further out. Aim for the warehouses instead of the restaurants.”

Noct was ready to give up, but Prompto’s smile and his determination had him dragging to the station, sharing Prompto’s headphones for some music on the ride, and stepping out nearer to the warehouse district, warmed up and ready to start again.

And they hit the motherload. Just in the station alone they found another spider, two different types of flies, and a huge beetle that he and Prompto played rock, paper, scissors to decide who had to pick it up. That left just one more.

“I don’t get why we are only finding black wasps. The red ones were everywhere this summer,” Prompto moaned. He nudged another one over with a stick and sighed. “Too bad we can’t just paint a black one red.”

Noctis, who had been nudging another beetle with the toe of his shoe, stood bolt upright and grinned. “Prom, man. _We can_.”

Prompto looked at him like he’d lost his mind and insisted, “Mrs.  Willis  would see right through that in a heartbeat.”

“No she wouldn’t,” Noct insisted, reaching down to pick up a nearby dead black wasp. “Not if we get a couple and practice first.” He took the baggie of bugs from Prompto and stuffed four more wasps in before leading the way back to the train, dismissing all of Prompto’s concerns about him getting caught or failing or lying.

Back at Noct’s apartment, he set to work while Prompto washed the gross of their field trip off and stole some of Noct’s clothes to wear. He came out smelling a lot better and still damp, Noct’s shirt clinging to him enough to distract Noct from his careful paint job.

“Who’s creepin’ now?”

“I have all of my clothes on,” Prompto pointed out. Then he corrected, “All of yours rather.”

“You better not be wearing my underwear.”

“What if I am,” Prompto managed before snorting with laughter at Noct’s horrified face. “Dude, please. Your boxers are all itchy at the seams.”

“How do you even know that,” Noctis deadpanned, his mouth wrinkling up in confusion.

“I dug through the drawer trying to find something soft? How goes arts and crafts?” Prompto leaned over on the bar top and surveyed the line of meticulously laid out black wasps and two different references – one from the bug book they’d had to buy months ago and one from the internet, pulled up on Noct’s phone.

“Piece of cake,” Noct beamed. “I only messed up one and this one should be awesome. Look,” Noct slid the funky dead bug with carefully dabbed orange-red paint on its back over for Prompto to see.  

It was a really good match to the one in the bug book. And the one online too. There was just enough variation that it wasn’t an exact copy, and some of Prompto’s concern began to ease. “You still need to be careful. I’m not so sure Mrs. Willis isn’t going to spot the fake.”

“Listen, I’ve got that figured out too. I’m going to go tomorrow and buy one of those fancy bug box things. Put the creepy crawlies under glass, polish it all up. She’ll be dazzled by the display.”

Prompto blinked, staring open mouthed at the lengths Noct was willing to go to to not get found out. “Dude, you are either a genius or a complete idiot.”

“The proof will be in the grade,” Noct said with a wave of his paintbrush. “Now that the bugs are sorted out, how about some hugs?”

“Shower first!” Prompto said, dancing back a few steps. “You stink!”

___

The following Friday, the proof was in the grade as everyone received their assessments. Prompto received full credit with a few points taken off at the end for the condition of his bugs. Noct managed to also receive full credit, losing points both for the condition of his bugs and the small number of them, but earning full marks in presentation.

Once well away from the school grounds, Noct stopped and started to pop open the fancy display case he’d bought just for this assignment. Juggling the weight of it and his bag, he managed up upend the whole thing and shake out the board with the bugs pinned to it.

“Noct! What are you doing?” Prompto watched as Noct maneuvered it closed again and binned the board, bugs and all, in a nearby dumpster. “You crawled in gutters for those things!”

“Yeah, and I spent like two hundred dollars on this case and it’s the perfect size to display that first edition Captain Insomnia I found last week. I'm not wasting it on dead bugs."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so this is, in effect, a True Story. The painting of the black wasp is a time honored tale of one of my cousins, desperate at the last minute to squeak past the draconian science teacher when he was in high school in the 70s and my uncle coming to the rescue with his artistic skills. We are a wonderfully strange family and I love us.
> 
> These nerds are probably seventeen by now and I don't think they'll ever get any better sense.


	15. Even The Wrong Words Seem To Rhyme

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Try to pull one over on Clarus and you'll get what's coming to you. While watching Gladio being hazed by the Crownsguard, Clarus dazzles all present with his advanced logic and reasoning skills. At least now we know where Gladio gets it.

“Am I late?” Monica’s head popped around the corner of the stairwell that led to the roof of the Citadel and she smiled. Then sobered because Cor wasn’t alone tonight.

“Your Majesty,” she said, straightening and offering the King a bow. She hadn’t been counting on this and was far from ready for it. Ready would have meant that she had at least grabbed a shower before bee-lining it straight to the roof once she arrived back in Insomnia after having been gone for two and a half weeks.

King Regis lowered his binoculars and grinned as if he’d never been happier in his life. “Not in the slightest. He’s not even gotten there yet.”

To Monica, he looked as happy as she’d ever seen him. Relaxed, his bad leg propped up on the battlements as he lounged in one of the camp chairs kept up here just for this purpose. She’d been exposed to the more human side of her King over the course of the past few years, but she still had to take a few moments to get used to the sight of him as ‘off-duty’ as he ever got.

Cor handed her a foam cup of coffee and gave her a meaningful look which didn’t make a lot of sense until Clarus rounded the HVAC equipment with another chair. Ah. Well, she supposed she could just wait for an acceptable greeting from Cor until later as these two were still in the throes of waiting for Clarus to realize what was right in front of him.

Monica would have huffed if she’d been a lesser woman. But she wasn’t.

“Here you are, Ms. Elshett. Have a seat, get comfortable. This has been a long time coming,” Clarus offered with a smile, setting up the chair next to King Regis for her.

“Thank you. Has it? Was there a delay I haven’t heard of?” Monica took the seat offered to her.

“This was supposed to happen last week,” Regis explained, “But Gladio caught the flu. So, here we are.” He handed the binoculars over to Clarus who looked through them eagerly.

“I’m sorry he was sick but I am glad, too. That means I get to be here to watch someone break in to my apartment.” The room that was meant to be her bedroom was a prime target for these hazing rituals because she was gone often enough to make it easy in that regard, but the fact that it shared an entrance and interior wall with the Marshal’s made it a challenge.

Regis smiled at her and winked, “I’m glad because that meant that Clarus could be here to watch his son rifle through your belongings. Iris was down as well,” he explained, “so he would not have left home even if the Citadel had come under attack.”

Clarus extended a rude gesture to his King without looking at him and Regis laughed. “Oh, I think he’s arrived,” Clarus handed the binoculars over to Monica, whose own excitement was growing for more than one reason. First, Cor had come to stand directly behind her, running a surreptitious hand over  her shoulder out of Clarus’s line of vision. One of the best things about coming home from these trips was coming back home to _him_.  Even if it meant putting off jumping him until they were alone.

“I think so. Your Majesty,” she agreed, offering the binoculars back. Regis took them and trained them on the correct windows opposite, where a tiny pinprick of light was moving methodically around the room.

“Now we wait,” Clarus said, his own amusement growing. What on earth were they doing, four grown people standing on a freezing rooftop in the middle of winter, hoping… what exactly? He had no idea, but he did hope that Gladio would succeed. Not that a bit of failure would do the boy any harm, but he was looking forward to future conversations, bonding over the traditions of the Crownsguard.

“Right, are we wagering then?” Regis offered with a wicked grin.

“As much as I hate to part you from your money, I accept. Same as we placed on Ignis?”

“Seems reasonable. Though I would like to adjust my time from ten minutes to half an hour. This task is a bit more challenging and more outside of Gladio’s skillset.”

“You thought that it would take Ignis only ten minutes to obtain one of your cufflinks?” Clarus sounded shocked, but knew deep down that he was right. Gladiolus was well out of his element.

“Yes,” Regis said with a look up at Clarus. “I believe it took him a good bit longer, though. Cor did part me from a rather large sum over that.”

Clarus knew that look and now the mystery of how the Prince’s advisor and Chamberlain came by a pair of the King’s own cufflinks was solved. He’d been caught, detained by Regis himself, and had found a way out of the mess somehow.

“Yes. But I will not lose tonight,” came the confident reply from the King. “I shall win by my money back plus some tonight.”

Silence fell for several minutes as they watched the speck of light move a bit more before coming to rest in the center of the room that was supposed to be Monica’s bedroom. Of course, it wasn’t actually used for sleeping but for storage of both Cor and Monica’s out of season clothes and linens but that wasn’t exactly common knowledge, not even among the people on the roof.

Regis could guess at it, but he’d never been there himself so he had no absolute knowledge. And Clarus?

Well.

Monica was frustrated by the insistence that he never be told anything outright in regards to the now eight-year-old relationship that she and Cor enjoyed. And enjoyed was the right word because they were both very content with each other which made it even more annoying. It seemed juvenile to not just be honest about it with the King’s Shield. They were the best of friends, these men and yet they insisted on playing this long-running prank instead of sharing the happiness they’d found in each other. Clarus, she was sure, was going to be very hurt by that once he found out. The only things that kept her from telling him herself were the facts that nothing was ever intentionally hidden and she was not friends with Clarus like Cor was. It would have been an awkward conversation if she tried to have it.

Ten minutes past, then ten more and Cor hummed, convinced that he was going to win this one as well. Regis began to look concerned and Clarus was openly baffled. No alarms were tripped, the light hadn’t moved in three minutes, and Monica was beginning to grow concerned.

“Do you suppose something’s happened?” she asked at last, passing the binoculars back to Regis again.

“If there were someone else in there, wouldn’t he raise the alarm? Surely he knows that security comes before pride?” Clarus fretted.

“But his light hasn’t moved,” Regis insisted. “Why hasn’t he moved or turned it off if there is someone else in there?”

Cor smirked, “He’s thinking.”

“But what about?” Monica asked. “There should be no end of options for things he could take. Isn’t the goal to be something that is clearly mine?”

Then it hit her. She didn’t live in that room and she had been gone for weeks. The only things that were in there were some odds and ends jewelry that she didn’t wear often and boxes of her and Cor’s summer clothes that neither of them had worn in months. If there was going to be anything in that room that would do the trick, it would have had to have been put there for him to find.

“Cor,” her eyes wide she reached up and clamped her fingers around his hand as the realization of what must have happened dawned on her.

The alert in her voice was enough to alert both Regis and Clarus and all eyes were on her as she gaped across the square at the windows. Regis registered it too, having enough proof in both her shock and Cor’s sudden tenseness to piece together what was happening.

Monica turned in her seat, staring up a Cor in silence, mouth open and a look something between horror and panic setting in. Cor, for his part, managed to hold it together a little better, glancing at Regis who shook his head and fought the urge to smile.

Clarus looked between the three of them, his face mild and confused. He thought hard, wondering what could possibly be going on with these looks that were being passed around. The little pinprick of light began to move across the way and he looked back. “He’s heading through that odd meeting room now. Astrals,” Clarus breathed, realizing what was happening at last and lowering the binoculars to look at the others.

“Cor you giant idiot,” Clarus accused, a hand going to his hip. “You forgot to put something of Monica’s in there didn’t you?” He sighed and thrust the binoculars back into Regis’s lap. “You utter dolt. If he comes out having seen more than he ought to, that is on your head, my friend.”

Regis, having very little emotionally invested in the evening, was the first to recover. His tittering giggles sounded so ridiculous to Monica that she snapped out of her reverie next, quickly thinking through what she’d just heard to grasp the meaning underneath.

They hadn’t been fooling him at all. Not in the slightest and Monica was thrilled to her very core. It served them right – Cor and Regis – for thinking so little of him. Fighting off outright laughter, she asked, “How long have you known?”

“Known? Oh,” Clarus caught up with her meaning quickly and smiled, “I suspected it nearly a decade ago.”

Regis’s eyes went wide and Cor finally got past himself enough to reply, “Not possible. It’s only been eight years.”

“I said _suspected_. You two had been making sheep’s eyes at each other since you were barely legal to drink. I didn’t realize it was a reality until about six? Yes six, because it was when Iris started school, years ago.” He shrugged broad shoulders and gave them a gentle, paternal smile. “It was your own fault for forgetting that her kindergarten was just around the corner from your favorite breakfast spot. And,” he added, pointing a finger directly at Cor, “I was happier than I’d been in ages. I was beginning to wonder if I wasn’t going to have to step in and do something about it myself. Snails! Both of you.”

Regis, having stopped giggling when the shock of his own realization set in, demanded, “And yet you never said a word to me?” He’d been so convinced that Clarus knew nothing! If he’d known all along, even longer than Regis himself had known, what else was the man keeping from him?

Clarus defended himself with a firm and haughty reminder, “They took pains to not be overt, it was the least I could do to honor that privacy.”

Monica felt like she’d been caught making out by her dad and buried her face in her hands, torn about whether to laugh or groan. Cor set his mouth in a firm, straight line and huffed unhappily, “Then why did you spend so much time bothering me about dating?”

Clarus looked like a man who was suffering in the company of the biggest fools he’d ever met and he explained slowly, “I was hoping that you would own up to it yourself. The fact you never did has given me a few sleepless nights, too.”

Monica decided, as the light across the plaza flickered and Gladio searched for something of hers in the mix of shared dresser and closet space to take back to his waiting comrades, that whatever he took he could keep. A token of her gratitude to the Amicitia family for faithful friendship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this chapter three times, the third being this version. There was just a lot of lexical constipation I had to get past before this would come, I suppose. This is the winter before Gladio turns 19 in the spring, Cor is 42, Monica 41. Regis is 47, Clarus 52. I really like writing the older bros. 
> 
> But I am very pleased with this one, Clarus is a good man and not half as vague as he pretends to be.
> 
> EDIT: Now worked on four times, and yes. I'm done.


	16. And I Didn't Expect This Night To Go So Well

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompto and Noctis thought they were safe. Thought there was nothing that could get in the way of their blossoming romance. Well, Noctis thought and Prompto hoped. But it wasn't what got in their way but what they forgot to /set/ in the way that has led to Prompto being a mess of anxiety. But he's managed to take his fear by the nose and it determined to find out where he stands now.
> 
> There's some definite descriptions of past sexual acts in here. Just so you know.

Prompto fidgeted with the zipper on his coat and paced another round of the bare courtyard. This was crazy and he knew it, but he couldn’t stand not knowing for sure. It might have been selfish, but he just had to _know_. The anticipation was costing him sleep and he had bombed a quiz today because of it.

So now he was tired, cold, and a nervous wreck as he paced around the circle one more time. He wasn’t sure if sitting at home waiting was the worst thing ever or if lying in wait for Ignis was, but either way, he knew that his belly was rolling and his mouth was getting sour. Would this guy ever show up? He came through here every day, didn’t he?

Unless he didn’t and he’d got the address wrong or had misjudged the time or Ignis had seen him waiting and just avoided him which would have made perfect sense because Ignis didn’t like him at all. What could possibly make him be okay with Prompto waiting here for him? Because that was pretty obviously what he was doing.

Prompto was really out of place here. At least he felt like he was. Nobody really looked at him much but the ones who did were clearly trying to place him somehow. They knew. He didn’t belong here in the back courtyard of the Citadel’s dorms and all 12 people who passed knew it.

He should just go. He wasn’t going to help his case by lurking around here like some kind of sad creeper.

Prompto was ready to just give up, call it a hopeless case, go home and start packing up all of Noct’s stuff that was left at his place. It was over and he just had to accept that. There was no way that the Crownsguard or King Regis would let him still even be friends with Noct after this, much less anything beyond that.

And it was that beyond that really hurt a lot. Because Prompto was convinced (only because Noct kept telling him) that this THING that was happening between them wasn’t just his imagination. It was real and it was fine. Prompto could actually believe the real part and up until a few days ago, he was willing to believe the fine part too but then.

Well.  Ignis walked in.

And did not walk in on them playing poker either, but walked in while Prompto’s dick was so far down Noct’s throat that his eyes were starting to water. Disaster. Absolute disaster. And while Noct had assured him that there was nothing to worry about, Prompto just wasn’t buying that.

He was the Crown Prince of Insomnia, heir to the throne, only son of a sitting King. Prompto was nobody, just some plebe from an ok part of town. How on Eos did that make them getting caught literally with their pants down ever equate to being ok? And it was most definitely not ok from the point of view of it being Ignis – who sat in on meetings for Noct and cooked for him, cleaned up after him, and was generally his caretaker – who would no doubt carry this news back to the King. And if Ignis didn’t like Prompto, then the King was really going to hate him.

Prompto sank his chin into his coat collar and headed out of the courtyard and into the street, staring down at his shoes as he walked. Yeah, knowing for sure would have been nice but maybe it was just so obvious to everyone but Noct that he didn’t really have to ask.

Prompto walked along the quiet back street, heading for the bus stop that would take him back across town to his empty house. His parents were gone again, this time he wasn’t really even sure where. More business traveling he was sure, and in a way he was sort of happy they weren’t there. He was pretty sure that he’d end up crying again, and his dad always hated that. He didn’t think he could handle both a broken heart and his parents not understanding it. They didn't even realize that his 'friend Noct' was actually Noctis Lucis Caelum.

He tried to count himself lucky as he walked, thinking that he could get home, pack up Noct’s things, have dinner. Put this whole stupid daydream behind him. Maybe even order a pizza and eat the whole thing? That was a bad idea, but it was still comforting.

Prompto didn’t really register the car that pulled up and stopped a bit in front of him as he walked and really didn’t pay any attention to the person who got out until they blocked his path and said his name. Then he nearly jumped out of his skin.

“Prompto. What are you doing in this part of town?” Ignis was looking down at him with mild curiosity. “Is Noct with you? Does he need something?”

“I…uh. No, he’s not with me,” Prompto tried to pull himself together, failed, tried again, then gave up. Everything was just too hard and too raw right now for him to pull himself up by his bootstraps and be happy. “I came by hoping to find you."

“Me?” Ignis blinked, confused. What could this friend of Noct’s want with him? Unless, “Has something happened?” Perhaps there was some emergency?

Prompto blinked up at Ignis, wondering if this guy was for real. He didn’t think that Ignis was the type to mess with somebody but he didn’t know for sure. Heck, maybe the guy was sadistic and enjoyed watching people suffer. Well, Prompto wouldn’t give him the pleasure. “Uh, yeah. You kinda walked in on it a few days ago,” he snapped, stuffing his hands deep into his pockets and shuffling his feet.

Ignis blinked, his mind shifting gears from some serious emergency situation that he had no knowledge of (the top contenders were Noct having been arrested for trespassing and him being stuck in some impossibly small space because of his own stupidity) to what was clearly going to be a delicate personal matter.

“Ah,” he said with a nod, gesturing towards the running car at the curb. “I was headed to Noct’s apartment. Why don’t we discuss it on the way?”

Prompto looked from the Ignis to the car and back again a couple of times, weighing his options. If Ignis was headed for Noct’s place, he might as well go along as he’d probably not get another chance to see him before everything blew up.

He shrugged, “Okay.”

Once in the car and merging back into traffic, Ignis waited for Prompto to speak up and when he didn’t, Ignis sighed. Uphill work, then. “Is there something in particular on your mind?” Ignis had apologized to Noctis for not knocking and readily agreed to do so in the future, so he was at a loss as to what could be so important as to bring Prompto all this way.

Prompto stared out the passenger side window and stayed silent for a few seconds, wondering if there was any way to put this that wasn’t going to sound terrible. There probably wasn’t and it was probably not going to matter soon anyway. “Are you gonna tell anybody?”

“Put your seatbelt on,” Ignis said, mostly buying time to word his response to Prompto’s question. It wasn’t all that unexpected, he supposed. But it was surprising in a way. Well, maybe surprising was the wrong word as well. It did give him pause, though.

Prompto complied and sank into the seat, not really expecting an answer when he hadn’t really gotten one on the first try. Yep. Disaster.

Ignis signaled a lane change and executed the maneuver before settling back himself and saying, “I wasn’t planning to. Is there some reason I should?”

Prompto cut his eyes to Ignis to see if he was having him on about this, but Ignis’s face remained neutral, if a little tight at the corners of his mouth. Maybe he was doing some sort of high level bargaining? If he was, Prompto was just going to have to lose because he had no way to deal with that. “I really wish you wouldn’t,” he mumbled.

Ignis turned this over in his head and found the picture he was getting to be muddled. “Prompto, forgive me if I sound dense,” he began, “but what exactly are you trying to get at?”

The sideways look turned in to an outright stare as Prompto floundered, feeling like he was in way over his head with someone who was light-years smarter than he would ever be and he was sure was trying to trap him somehow. How was he supposed to answer that? Ignis wasn’t that stupid. Everybody talked about him like he was some kind of genius.

“Is that some kind of joke?” Prompto asked, crossing his arms over his chest and trying to glare at Ignis though he probably wouldn’t notice.

“Not in the least,” was the immediate reply, Ignis careful to keep his tone neutral. “I don’t understand how your actions and your questions add up and I feel like I should.” It was like explaining things to Noctis when he just did not _want_ to understand.

Prompto let out an unimpressed huff and fished around, trying to figure out how this could be some kind of trap only to come up empty handed. Fine, what did it matter anyway? What was the worst he could do? Shove him out of the moving car? That might be a mercy after all this was over.

“If you told anybody about me and Noct, there’s no way I’d ever get to talk to him again.” Much less hold him, kiss him, or taste him but Prompto wasn’t going to go into all _that_ right now. He might not have much to lose, but he wanted to keep a little bit if his dignity.

“Ah.” The waters of thought were clearing now and Ignis offered, “So you are concerned that I’m going to tell someone else about what I saw?"

“That’s about the size of it,” Prompto agreed and sank down into his coat again.  This was awful. Dragging this out like this wasn’t helping at all and it was eating him up inside.

“Why would I want to do that?”

“Uh, because you don’t like me?” Prompto offered as if Ignis really was an idiot, because he was beginning to sound like one.

“Do I have to like you?” Ignis was a bit annoyed that he hadn’t gotten subjects this easy when he had been practicing interrogation last year.

“Well, it’d be good for me if you did. At least then I’d get to keep my best friend,” Prompto all but spat. Stupid and an asshole. Ignis was toying with him and he was going to cry if he kept it up.

“But my job is not to do what is good for you, but what is good for Noctis,” Ignis pointed out mildly.

“So I’m gathering,” Prompto hunched further in on himself, wishing that he could just roll into a ball and disappear. “And it’s no good for the heir to the throne of Insomnia to be dat-,” Prompto cut himself off short, not wanting to overstate whatever this THING was that he and Noct were doing, “having sex with some random commoner dude, right? That’s not going to help secure the line.” Prompto put the last part in air quotes and a mocking tone before he subsided.

Ignis was quiet for a few moments, letting the weight of what Prompto had just said sink in. He had to give the boy credit – he’d thought about this a lot further than Noct had. Not as far along as Ignis had taken the train of thought, but perhaps that was good because it meant that there was a lot that Prompto did not know. And maybe, just maybe, he could be the bearer of some good news for a change.

“You are very right on all counts. None of that would do anyone any good to be aware of and unless you are hiding more than I’ve been privy to seeing, there is no real hope of the pair of you producing an heir,” Ignis admitted, adjusting his glasses. He waited for a moment before going on, “However, there is no reason that I can think of for anyone to have to know. Neither of you are coming to any harm; Noctis has assured me that the two of you are using proper precautions and that your… methods are sound,” okay this was getting a little awkward, “and so long as you add locking the door to your prep list, I can’t imagine what Noct would stand to gain by losing your friendship.”

The air quotes around that last word would just have to be in his mind alone. Ignis hazarded a glance at Prompto and found him still rolled up in the seat, but a look of deep concentration on his face instead of the near abject misery that had been there before.

“So you’re not gonna rat us out?” he clarified after a few minutes of silence.

“Doing that would make Noct very unhappy, unlikely to trust me ever again, and unwilling to cooperate at any level with anything that he is expected to do. So no, I will not ‘rat you out.’”

The rest of the ride was spent in silence, Prompto going over in his head exactly what had just happened and adjusting his mindset accordingly. He wasn’t sure that he completely trusted Ignis to not change his mind, but his relief for the time being was enough to shove that doubt into the future to be dealt with whenever it had to be.

Ignis mulled over the conversation as he drove, parked, and let them both in through security. He remained silent as Noct greeted Prompto happily and took the notes from the day’s meetings with more grace than he usually did. Ignis left then, leaving the pair of them to sort out their own dinner for once and as he returned to the Citadel with Noct’s laundry in the back seat, he considered that while he did not like Prompto, he at least had to respect the fact that he’d considered Noctis’s future and not just his own feelings. Perhaps he had misjudged this scruffy friend Noctis had picked up.

Time would tell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whooo! Only two rewrites this time! I'm getting the hang of this again!
> 
> Just in time for me to have zero time to write again in two days. *sobs*
> 
> Prompto is 17, Ignis 19.


	17. That's Gonna Leave a Mark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Noctis does bodily injury to Cor and is appalled at himself. Cor turns out to be human after all, but Clarus covers for him (BROS 4 LYFE!) and Monica and a slightly drugged Cor share their thoughts on singing and Gladio manages to at least get Noctis out of bed if not out of his funk.
> 
> I hope you like this one because this is about as close to fluff as I've ever written and I blushed the whole time.

There was the tell-tale crack of a warp strike and Cor dropped low to block the blow that Prince Noctis was meant to be practicing but he wasn’t there. In less time than it actually took to think about it there was a yelp, and a mass hit him awkwardly from behind, causing his sword arm to snap forward.

Cor heard a sick crunch at the same time he registered that his elbow was not meant to go that direction. For a few seconds he was 15 again and in enough pain that he was seeing stars. He was not actually 15 again thankfully and his brain picked up that tangent and carried it, even as his stomach started lurching against the wrongness that existed in the place of his elbow joint.

“Noctis,” Cor said evenly, not wanting to terrify the Prince who as looking exactly like he’d just killed someone, “Go get Clarus. He’s in the office.” How had he ended up on the floor and where, exactly, was his weapon?

**

Oh shit, oh shit ohshit OHSHIT he’d hurt the Marshal. He’d fucked up warping again and this time he’d actually done real damage and it just _had_ to be to Cor.

Noctis ran full speed, not trusting himself to even warp to the other side of the room now, for the Crownsguard office, slamming through doors as fast as he could. At the office door, he crashed through that, barely remembering that knobs had to be turned in order for some doors to open.

Breathless and terrified, he looked between Clarus and the officer in the room with him and gasped, “I broke Cor!”

**

Clarus did not waste a moment. The look of sheer terror on the Prince’s face, coupled with his flushed face and gasping was enough to propel the Shield to action. “Julia, call Gladiolus to come collect the Prince. Prince Noctis,” he commanded, “Stay here until he arrives.”

In the few seconds that it took to cross the hall all manner of nightmare scenarios played out in his head. Yes, Noctis was getting better at warping but his skill still needed a great deal of work. The various types of accidents that could happen when learning were limitless and none of them were delightful.

He was able to relax once he realized that Cor was still breathing and was not actively bleeding. However, the paleness was not a good sign and Clarus grabbed the nearest trash bin as he crossed the room and knelt down beside his friend. “Show me,” he demanded.

That was a displaced joint if he’d ever see one and he’d seen more than a few. Reset some as well, but that was not something he was going to try right now. Cor’s elbow was turning blushing purple already, bruises spreading fast over his distended skin. “Broken, do you think?” Clarus craned his neck around to get a better look.

“Yeah,” Cor managed to get out between gritted teeth. Shiva’s _tits_ did it hurt. He didn’t remember it being this bad when he was younger but then again he’d been younger. A lot younger and a lot more stupid. The tingle of adrenaline followed his bloodstream, every heartbeat making his arm throb, throb, throb. He clamped his hand back over the wound and regretted it as he gagged, vomiting into the handy trashcan.

Clarus had his phone to his ear, waiting as it rang through to Medical. “Delightful as always,” he deadpanned.

Cor chuckled around the ebbing tide of nausea as the movement of his shoulders sent shards of pain down his arm and he groaned.

Clarus got through to the Medical department and they promised to arrive soon. Cor watched, trying to be as still as he could so as not to make either the pain or it’s accompanying nausea worse, as Clarus grabbed his Kikuichimonji from here it’d been knocked across the floor, sheathed it, and dispatched it into the sparkling white ether of the King’s Armiger space. 

“Noctis’s is blue. Did you know that?” He asked, talking just to keep his mind off the fact that he could feel his skin stretching with the swelling of his arm. It as a disgusting feeling, as was the scraping of whatever bone had come loose in the collision. 

“I gathered,” Clarus said with a nod, knowing without having to be told that this conversation was necessary. Cor _had_ to talk when he was hurting this much. If he was talking he wasn’t throwing up his lungs or overthinking whatever unpleasant physical sensation was happening. The man might be a legend in his on time, but he was not without weird idiosyncrasies like being acutely aware of even the mildest pain. “It seems he has managed to extend it to Gladio. I caught them trying to pass pizza through it.” 

Cor chucked, then groaned, again. “I’ll bet that was foul.” 

“Utterly disgusting. Handfuls of sauce and melted cheese all over his bedroom. At least we had the sense to try that with something less gooey first.” Clarus turned towards the interior doors of the training room as they opened and a pair of the Medical staff entered. 

He rose, taking the trash can with him and looking apologetic. “Forgive me,” he said, his best sheepish expression on his face, “The sight of broken bones….” Clarus shuddered and the Medics exchanged amused looks, assuring him it wasn’t uncommon. Cor and Clarus exchanged brief looks, the Marshal thankful and the Shield indulgent. 

He had a reputation, after all. 

**

News of Cor’s misadventure reached Monica via a phone call that scared her nearly to death. Her phone rang while she was driving and she ignored it. Not three seconds later, it rang again. Then again. On the fourth ring she answered it without looking at the number and her heart all but stopped at the Glaive dispatcher on the other end said, “Call for Monica Elshett from King Regis. Is this Monica Elshett?”

She’d said all the right words, passing security checks for the call to be put through, trying so hard not to think about why there would be a call from the King to her personal phone. Thankfully she didn’t have to wait long.

“Don’t panic,” King Regis led with as if that was going to help somehow. It sort of did, but not by much. “My son attempted to warp through Cor about an hour ago. He’s fine, just a broken elbow.” There was a pause and Monica opened her mouth to reply but was cut off by a terse, “Again.”

“Is the Prince injured?”  She wasn’t going to touch that ‘again’ for anything, no matter how tempting it was. And at least this wasn’t that call that both she and Cor dreaded – the one that said the other as dead. It might have been more concern to him than it as to her, but it was something they’d talked about more than once.

“Only his peace of mind.” There was a light shuffling on the King’s end of the line and he said quietly, “I think this is the first time he has ever caused serious damage to anyone.”

“Oh no.” Monica remembered what that felt like. Well, what it felt like to hurt someone she hadn’t really wanted to hurt. Cor didn’t count because she usually wanted to kill him when they were that age.

“We all do it eventually,” Regis sighed heavily. Why did it have to be so hard to watch his son grow up? And why did it have to be happening all of a sudden these days? “But that doesn’t mean it is easy.”

“If it were easy, everyone would be doing it,” Monica offered. “We will take care of him, Your Majesty.”

“I know you will. Cor has been taken to St. Alma’s. Clarus took the Marshal’s Keys and will handle dismissal tonight,” Regis said, his voice returning to its usual tone of confident assurance.

“Your Majesty, that is very kind but…,” Monica began, not really comfortable with here this was going. Cor wasn’t dying and she as his Second. She should be the one dismissing the Crownsguard in his absence. Even if he was standing at the gates of death pounding on them and screaming to be let in, it was still her _job_.

Regis pretended he didn’t hear. “And Cor can decide what punishment the Prince will undertake after he has been patched up. If you old be so kind as to go fetch the Marshal home from the hospital when he is released, I would be grateful.”

Monica allowed herself the release of silently mocking Regis before she grudgingly agreed to his ‘request’ and ended the call. As she turned on the next street to turn back towards the hospital, she reflected that perhaps keeping their relationship under wraps would have been wiser in the long run. All this alteration in protocol was… unnecessary.

**

Home at last, Monica nudged Cor over to what was usually her side of the sofa before she plopped down and tucked herself against his left side. It felt a little awkward, but not awkward enough to give up. Home was home and he was here, which was a lot better than what the doctors had been considering.

Which was keeping him overnight.

Which was the exact opposite of what he wanted.

Which meant that he was being a first-class ass by the time she got there.

Fortunately (if there was ever fortune to be had in the misfortune of others) a ten car pile-up had happened on the cross-town 11, flooding the ER with actual emergencies. The waiting was miserable, but once the medication they’d given him kicked in Cor was at least sort of comfortable. And with the sudden influx of dire need, all talk of Cor staying evaporated.

They immobilized his arm, swathing him in gauze before clapping his arm in a brace and sling, wrote prescriptions for pain-killers and anti-inflammatory drugs and sent him home with instructions to follow up with the surgeon in three days once the swelling went down.

It made sense, really. Monica thought they were just treating his name more than his injuries and as time had dragged on, he agreed. As she snuggled against him and flicked through the recorded shows on the DVR, he took a deep breath and felt another wave of tension leave his body. It had been slowly ratcheting down ever since they started the discharge process, and now that he was home, well fed, and well-medicated weariness was taking hold.

“That one,” he said, pointing to the last ten minutes of Insomnia’s Got Talent that they hadn’t managed to stay awake to finish the night before. “I swear, it’s going to be that tiny blonde with the piano.”

“I don’t know about that. The guy that sang the piece in Old Lucian as really good,” she countered as she stuck a bowl of sour gummy fruits between his legs and made herself comfortable under his arm.

Cor looked down at her as if she’d grown an extra head and Monica shrugged. The show loaded, started playing, and the both went silent, Cor’s hand straying to her hair, combing through it gently while she took on the job of feeding him candies two or three at a time. Being one-armed had its perks, it seemed.

“AH-HA! I told you he’d win!” Monica slapped a hand on Cor’s thigh and he groaned as the winner was announced – the guy who could sing operettas Old Lucian.

“She was robbed,” Cor insisted. “If that’s all it takes to win, I ought to go try out.”

“And do what,” Monica snickered, leaning back to look him in the eye. “Yodel?”

“It’d sound better than that crap,” he insisted, smiling.

“What would your boss think?” She put a dramatic hand to her cheek and gasped.

“Fuck him, I’d make Regis get up there with me. We’d be the pride of Insomnia.”

Monica laughed out loud, “A yodeling sensation, The King of Insomnia and the Marshal of the Crownsguard. Just add in Clarus and you’d be the hottest group since the Boys Down the Block!”

Cor as laughing too, shoulders shaking and his head back as his hand came up to pinch the bridge of his nose. “If Clarus joined in, we couldn’t yodel. He has a voice like an angel.”

Monica had made the mistake of taking a drink as she calmed down and had to clap a hand over her mouth to not spit water everywhere as she started up again. “You and King Regis would have to hum!”

“And it could still be better than that guy,” Cor insisted as he rubbed his eyes. After several minutes of trying to calm down only for one of them to start giggling and the whole process having to be repeated, he managed to get himself under control. “You know I’m going to tell them this, right?”

Monica giggled again and leaned over, pressing a soft kiss to Cor’s cheek. “Just so long as you tell them it was your idea while you were drugged out of your head.”

“I’m not drugged out of my head,” he insisted, looking insulted. “See, I can still do this.”

He leaned towards her, planting a noisy kiss on her lips before grabbing her around her waist, shifting to plant his shoulder in her stomach as he picked her up, slung over his left shoulder. “If I were high as a kite, could I do this?” he asked, making his way through the apartment to their bedroom.

Monica, once she realized what was happening, just gave up mostly because she did not want to be dropped and he was on an awful lot of strong medicine. “Probably, as I’m short and this is next to no effort for you.”

“Now, wait a minute,” he scolded a short laugh escaping as he maneuvered down the hall, only wobbling once. “I thought you preferred ‘fun-sized?’”

**

Gladio said goodbye to his father and put his phone in to rest mode. At least he was going to have some decent news to tell Noct this time. Maybe he’d get out of bed and eat something.

“That as dad,” he said as he walked in to the nearly dark bedroom. “Cor’s gonna be fine.”

The lump in the middle of the bed shifted slightly but didn’t say anything.

“He’ll need some kind of surgery to pin the bone back together, but that’s all.”

The lump shifted again.

“Noct, man. It happens, ok? It’s no big deal.” Gladio didn’t have a whole lot of patience for this. Honestly, did the kid think that he was going to manage to get any better at the warping thing overnight? That’s not how it worked.

The lump developed a shock of messed up black hair, then a head, and then a face wearing a pained expression. “Not a big deal? I guess you broke the Marshal too? On accident? Just snapped his arm right in two?”

Gladio huffed and flopped down on the end of the bed. “No, but it’s not like you killed him. Just relax.”

Noct made a disgruntled sound and turned back in to Prince Bed Lump, yanking the covers back up over his head and telling Gladio what he could do with his advice. Gladio gave up trying to reason with him and tried to come up with a new approach.

“If it makes you feel better,” he said, giving the lump a whack, “Dad said Cor’s the one who’ll decide what your punishment is.”

The lump tensed and shot bolt upright.

“That’s it. I’m abdicating. Can I do that? Of course I can,” Noctis raised both of his arms above his head, “I’m the Prince, I am the Chosen King of legend! I resign!”

Gladio stared at Noct, dumbstruck as he rambled.

“And I hereby appoint you, Gladiolus Amicitia, as my heir. Have fun suffering whatever Cor comes up with!” Noct then returned to his blanket-cave.

Gladio, having witnessed a lot of very strange things in his time but never something quite like that, was relatively sure that Noctis trying to escape this way was not possible. “Noct,” Gladio said, staring at the ceiling, “Quit being a pansy.”

“Shut up,” came the muffled command.

Gladio was struck by an idea then and before he could think too hard about it he replied, “If I’m gonna be the heir, then it’s my job to tell you what to do. Get up off your ass, go take a shower, and grow a set of balls while you’re in there.”

The string of profanity that came from under the covers was vile, creative, and amusing and Gladio was already chuckling hen Noct emerged again, swinging a pillow at Gladio’s head. Gladio honestly didn’t care because at least Noct was up, moving, and not moping any more which was a definite improvement over the past six hours of misery.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. I've been carrying the computer around in my ancient backpack (L. L. Bean, 1996. These things LAST) and all the crumbs and stuff have shifted. Today, my W key was being a little shit and not wanting to work. I *think* I caught them all? But, I might have missed a few. Sorry about that!


	18. I Knock the Ice From My Bones

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ignis takes a few free moments to reflect on his reactions and the lessons he's learned from them. Iggy is Kinky and Unashamed.
> 
> This is the BDSM chapter but there's not actual sex happening, just Ignis thinking about it.

Ignis leaned back in his chair and stretched his arms over his head, giving the month-view of his planner one last look before he flipped through the individual weeks’ pages, double checking everything against the summary printout on top of the neatly stacked and color coded folders as the edge of his desk. Yes, everything was there and as correct as it could be on the first day of the month. Things would change and more would be added but having it all in print helped.

He stood, using his phone to snap pictures of both the calendar and weekly views and setting them to translate into his electronic notes and sync then with the calendar on his phone. He closed his planner and put it away in the center drawer of his desk, put the folders back in his bag to return to Karl in records, and replaced the last month’s summary sheets with the current ones under the glass of the desktop. He plugged his phone in to charge, checked the time, and was pleased that he had about fifteen minutes before he had to start getting ready for bed.

It was no challenge for him at all to fill that time, particularly at night when the dorms were mostly silent, the only sounds being the occasional set of footsteps coming in or heading to the bathrooms.

He unlocked the lower left desk drawer and pulled out a slim gray journal, worn soft from nearly a year’s worth of consistent use. He thumbed through the pages and stopped to read a few here or there, smiling over some of his notes, frowning over others.

When he had started on this endeavor, it was, he admitted now that the sharpness of the pain of it was over, that it had been a knee-jerk reaction. It had not taken more than one or two conversations with Gladio after their last… encounter… to realize that while Ignis’s feelings were unchanged, Gladio as not going to be returning them.

The finality of that still made his throat tighten, but the static wasn’t in it anymore and the silence that it brought to mind was more reflective than it was ashamed. Not that he probably shouldn’t feel some shame about the matter, and he did. Wanting love from someone who’s only interest in him was physical and only happened when he couldn’t get it elsewhere did sort of make him feel like he’d done something wrong; like he was worthless.

Nonsense of course, because he as far from worthless and the volume in his hand reiterated that as it contained the absolute wealth of knowledge he’d gained in the months previous. Because if there as one thing that sex with Gladio and the aftermath had left him wondering it was where in the flaming underworld had _that_ come from.

 _That_ being his apparent talent for and, more importantly, enjoyment of sexually dominating another person. Of course he knew that the practice existed but he’d never felt particularly drawn to it or given it any real attention outside the occasional pornography that slipped through his search criteria. But he supposed, as he looked back, that it only made sense.

He as accustomed to being in control, the master of any situation he was in. He hated uncertainty and vagueness and found it much more agreeable to be the one arranging things rather than the person who had to work with someone else’s plan. Not that he minded being given orders, but he preferred to be left to follow them using his own methods.

But at the time he had been thunderstruck. Both awed by the experience and the level of pleasure he took from it and also appalled by it. His mind turned over all of the possible ways that level of power over another person could be abused and found it hard to reconcile himself to those possibilities. The dichotomy of the situation left him in a funk for nearly a week, Gladio’s rejection feeling like a nail in his coffin.

But that nail had been a catalyst as well. Ignis could be fair now that it was in the past. Gladio had no idea that he was rejecting Ignis when he’d caught up with him after training a few days afterward and asked Ignis, blushing scarlet to his ears, if he thought there were any girls how might be ‘into that same kinda thing.’ Heart sinking, Ignis could only answer honestly: that he as sure there were but he did not know any personally. Gladio’s crestfallen face and subsequent fretfulness over ever finding such a woman had Ignis’s heart broken by the end of their ten minute walk. But Gladio didn’t know, and if Ignis had any say in it he never would now.

Because without the whole of that experience Ignis would be significantly more ignorant now and possibly still floundering in the sea of uncertainty. Should Gladio have asked him now if he knew any woman interested in holding him down, tying him up, or chocking him he would have more than one useful resource to hand him. And he could vouch for their usefulness as well.

What had started as just a simple search for more information – something to do to take his mind off the hurt of a broken heart – had led him down a path of internet message boards, a dating app called Hookup, and finally an invitation-only networking site where he could pick and choose who and what to try whenever he pleased.

He flipped through his notes on everything that he’d tried – written in his on shorthand that only a handful of people knew how to decipher – and what he’d thought of it. The afternoon with a grade-school teacher that taught him that he got no pleasure from slapping someone’s face, even when they begged for it. The adventurous and risky romp in the Citadel’s wine cellar that ended with his partner needing stitches and the valuable lesson to them both to always check that your surface of choice is actually stable before bending him over it. Learning how ropes were nothing but exciting from the pinch of the first knot through rubbing out stiffness over top of deep red lines in skin. Cuffs ere nice, but ropes were better. Lace looked amazing on everyone as did red-pink bite marks. Ice drew tight white lines and warm wax left pink spots and both drew out the most rewarding reactions when pinched or sucked.

Then the four page tirade he’d unloaded after a particularly unsatisfying session with a man, older and more versed in the power dynamic of being dominated, who had spent the bulk of the session seemingly in the throes of ecstasy but complained at the end that Ignis had been too rough and inconsiderate. Ignis fumed again as he read over the venting of his anger at the fact that he’d agreed to the safety and comfort protocols before they began but then never even used them.

But that was more than made up for by the sheer numbers of people who agreed, then did make use of the safety nets. Ignis took a great deal of pride in having a near instant response time now to any sign of distress in a partner. Granted, sometimes it was hard to tell – like the woman who’s wept through most of their time together – but that as where his on trust as tested.

And he didn’t even want to get started on the ‘afters.’ There were pages upon pages written in blue ink instead of black so that he could find them easier just to indulge in the comfort, the cuddly, intimate, sometimes silly and often too short times that let everyone involved just breathe and return to Eos.

Which led him to where he was now, flipping through his notebook and taking it all in again. He knew that Gladio wasn’t going to love him. And yes, that hurt still, maybe more than he was willing to admit even with this much time having past. But something he’d only recently realized was that if sex with people he would see only once could be as rewarding as it had been thus far, that same level of intimacy with someone he actually loved _and_ who actually loved him could only be better.

At least that is what he hoped.

Ignis’s phone went off, the little trill of it pulling him back to reality as it signaled that it was done converting all the pictures to information. He flipped to the first page in it and read every word, taking a deep breath as he did, proud of the fact that all he felt was a mild twinge at the detailed account of that late afternoon in Gladio’s bedroom. He then closed the notebook and replaced it in the drawer. He hadn’t added anything to it in weeks and was relatively sure no that he wouldn’t need to. Or want to was perhaps the more honest way to put it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so Ignis is 20 at the point here he's doing this chapter, but he only recently turned 20. So that's where we are timeline wise. I know this sounds like splitting hairs and maybe nobody really cares? But, I'm using it to try to keep stuff in order and making sense in my head. Following more than about 3 sets of stories gets confusing.
> 
> You know what, thank you all so much. Just thank you, for reading this and coming back to it, or reading it once, or commenting once or commenting on every chapter. I love all of you guys.


	19. The Sun Is On My Side

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Iris Knows Everything because she's learned in her years, how to find things out without bothering anybody. But when it concerns her and her future, it feels a little weird.

Iris Amicitia, age 12 years, 4 months, and 14 days, sat on the wall in the front garden of the Amicitia Compound alternating between watching the front gate and listening to the one-sided conversation her father was having on the phone. She knew, of course, that eavesdropping was bad and it wasn’t that she didn’t care so much that she saw it as a means to an end.

Her father was busy all the time. Her brother was growing more so by the day. If she was going to be Lady Iris Amicitia, she couldn’t be bothering them with questions when she was smart enough to just find out on her own.

Besides, it wasn’t like either of them would tell her the truth. Head-pats and dismissals ranked high on her list of Things Worthy of the Silent Treatment for a Week. She wasn’t a baby anymore.

“Regis, you know this is all very speculative,” Clarus Amicitia’s voice drifted out the tiny crack in the window to his study. It seemed the King was having trouble with Noctis again. When was he not? Iris sighed.

“We don’t know that. Not for sure.” Iris thought her dad sounded almost angry about that and that was a weird tone for him to take with His Majesty. “All I’m saying is that it would make sense to at least have some idea of a plan before he comes of age.”

Ugh, plans. Why was it always plans for the future with her dad? What about now?

There was a long break in the conversation where daddy only made agreeable noises, said, ‘you are absolutely right’ a lot, and moved papers around on his desk. A dog passed the gates, followed by a cat that Iris smiled at and waved to.

Her attention was riveted back on her dad’s conversation when he seemed to drop something then sputter, “It’s a bit soon for that, Regis!”

Oh, this could be promising. When daddy was shocked he always repeated whatever he’d just heard. That was the trouble with only having half a conversation to go on. She either had to guess at what was being said or not know at all. Unless dad got unhappy about it.

And boy was he unhappy now.

The sound of his hand meeting the top of his desk and the subsequent flippy noise of papers flying made Iris jump a little. “Regis, I beg of you. Remember that I am her father and that she is still a child.”

Oh.

_Oh._

Iris abandoned her perch on the wall and slipped down, careful to smooth her skirt down as she crept closer to the window. If this was about her she needed to pay extra attention and extra attention meant being as close as possible without being seen. Not that daddy would look out the window if he was that angry.

But what on Eos could the King have said about her to make daddy angry? He liked her, she knew. Was always quick to take her side in any argument and had told the best stories about when daddy was young. Had she done something to make him angry?

Oh no! Had he seen her mismatched socks the last time she’d been at the Citadel? It’d been so early and she was so tired, she didn’t even notice herself that the lace tops didn’t match until she’d gotten home! Surely that wasn’t going to get her in trouble? Not just the one time!

“Yes, I know what I just said. You must plan for his future, but could you refrain from planning it with my daughter? She still sleeps with the stuffed moogle she got when she was three!”

That as a low blow and Iris huffed to herself. He’d given her Bob and talking about him like that was unkind. So what if he was losing his fur and was really floppy? She loved him and kept him as clean as he could be! Hadn’t he ever read the Velveteen Chocobo? She was giving him the best chance at being Real that she could!

Dad didn’t say anything else for a long time and that meant that he was listening to whatever His Majesty was saying. He started shaking his leg (she knew because chanced a peek to make sure he was still on the phone) and his face was a stony mask of frowns. Even his eyebrows were frowning. Yikes.

“Well thank you for clarifying that,” dad spat into the phone before going silent for a few more minutes.

Finally, he sighed heavily and his chair creaked as he shifted. When he spoke again he sounded muffled, maybe he had a hand over his face like he did when she was asking too many questions or when Gladdy was being boring.

“I know Regis, and I am not angry with you. Try to understand, my friend. She is my little girl.” He sounded so sad. Iris forgot for a moment that she might be in trouble with the King and wrinkled her brow in thought. What did that mean? She wasn’t some dumb kid!

“It is difficult to imagine her being in the same position her mother was. I don’t want to risk her being so unhappy even though I know this is not the same.”

It was a day for Oh it seemed. Daddy didn’t talk about mother to anyone. Not to her, not to Gladdy, not even to Jared she thought and Jared had known mother himself. Iris only knew the barest basics even though she’d tried to find out more.

Daddy had married mother because it was what their families wanted and that was how it was done. They’d done everything the way they were supposed to, having Gladdy and living here at the Amicitia Manor. But mother had been unhappy and had gone away. Daddy had tried to make her happier, and it worked for a little while, but not long after Iris had been born, mother had left for good, leaving the title of Lady Amicitia for Iris for when she was older. Talking about mother made daddy and Jared sad, so Iris had stopped asking.

And daddy sounded so sad right now that she wondered how His Majesty could bring it up. Surely he knew that it hurt daddy to talk about her? And what did she have to do with Iris being twelve and Prince Noctis’s future? Wasn’t he supposed to take over from King Regis when he was older? That seemed pretty straightforward. And Gladdy was Prince Noctis’s shield, not her. None of this stuff connected at all and Iris frowned, trying to puzzle it out.

“I know, Regis. It makes no sense to me either. They already get on well. I daresay that were it not for the gap in their ages, they would be proper friends already.”

Well that was true. Prince Noctis was nice to her, but even she could tell that he’d rather be reading comics or playing at the arcade with Prompto than talking to her. Gladdy had to put up with her, he was her brother. But the Prince didn’t and at least he didn’t pull her hair or call her pipsqueak.

“It won’t make as much of a difference when they are older. The difference in twelve and seventeen is so much more than the different in twenty-five and thirty.” Daddy’s voice had gotten a lot less tense now, so whatever Regis was saying was calming him down. That was great, but what on earth were they talking about? This still didn’t make any sense.

Daddy sighed deeply, loud enough for her to hear the air blowing out as he relaxed. She could almost see his shoulders sag. “That’s true as well. Neither of us would want to her to be anything but free to complete her education.” He paused, hummed agreement. “I know I overreacted. I’m sorry, Regis.”

“No, I understand. I’m sorry. I know there’s ample time.”

“And of course, they’ll have some say in this?”

“Thank you for that, my friend.”

Daddy was sounding progressively more relaxed and his chair groaned again, the one spring popping as he leaned back. “I wonder if your good father had this same conversation with Aulea’s mother.”

As he chuckled at the suggestion, then laughed outright at whatever His Majesty answered, realization broke like a summer dawn on Iris.

Queen Aulea’s mother. King Mors was King Regis’s father. His Majesty was Prince Noctis’s father. Daddy was her daddy.

Parts of this conversation began to make sense in her head in slow motion. Too young now. Finish her education. Not be unhappy like her mother. Planning for the future. Iris blinked and her ears turned back to the study as her dad chuckled, “And you Lucis Caelum’s marry late anyway.”

A short pause and he added a terse, “Regis, you were born when your father was 48 and there were rumors that you were conceived out of wedlock. You have no room to point fingers at _me_.”

Iris knew that she was missing something in the first part of her dad’s statement, but she also knew that the dates in her history book made some grown-ups look at each other sideways. She’d figure that out later because she’d just realized what her daddy and King Regis were talking about.

And that was her marrying Prince Noctis. Later. Much later if the tone of her dad’s voice had anything to say about it. She wasn’t sure what to think about that and mulled it over as she half-listened to her daddy agreeing that it would be best to not formalize anything yet. It would be years away. Who knew what those years would hold. Blah blah blah.

The front gate squeaked open and broke Iris’s reverie as well as her comfort in her location. Without looking, she edged her way away from her father’s study window as footsteps headed off down the path towards the front door. She ambled by the flower beds, popping out on to the grassy part of the garden as if she’d come from the back.

“Iris,” her Old Lucian tutor’s voice greeted her gently and she smiled up at the young woman. “Were you waiting for me?”

“Sort of. Jared is cooking greens for dinner tonight and they smell terrible. I thought I would come out and save you from the stink.” Listening in on the phone conversation that was arranging her life for her was just a bonus.

Later that night, after her lessons and the offending greens, she reflected that while other girls might be angry or offended that their dad was trying to arrange their marriage, Iris couldn’t find fault with it. It seemed strange, but she supposed that this was one of those Position Brings Responsibility things that daddy (and more often now, Gladdy too) talked about and followed with a deep breath, like it wasn’t always the easiest thing ever.

And daddy was looking after her. She’d read that girls younger than her had been married off before and that sounded like bad news. Seems like most of them died because of it too and daddy had been really determined that she would get to grow up and do normal stuff like go to college. She liked the sound of that. Maybe she’d be a writer. Or a veterinarian. Maybe she could be an architect! She liked all the buildings around the Citadel and there was that one hallway that shouldn’t have been there like that. If she was an architect, she could figure out why.

And then she could just retire and be a Queen. Weird, but it didn’t sound bad. What did Queens do, really? Probably whatever they wanted.

Well, she could manage that. Besides, she thought as she tucked herself in to bed and kissed Bob’s ratty little bobble, at least Prince Noctis was nice. He’d never picked on her or called her names, and he had never patted her head and told her to run along. That was a big plus. Prompto was nice too, and they seemed to come in a set.

Yeah, she could be okay with this. But it was like daddy said, probably best to not mention it to anybody. It was bad enough trying to do her own thing with dad and Gladdy being the center of attention. Maybe she’d tell Prince Noctis sometime, but not yet. No rush. Twenty five was a long way off, and pretty old too.

She had lots to do before then and the secure knowledge that she was going to get to do it all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I go off the notion that while the Lucii told Regis that Noctis was the Chosen King, they did not tell anyone how everything would go down or when. So for all Regis knew (or hoped) Noctis would live a long, full life with all the joys and sorrows that most lives hold.


	20. Making The Best Of This

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lunafreya is so isolated from the rest of the world, and no one knows it as well as she does. But, in the gilded cage that is her life, comes letter from Noctis to help her feel more connected. 
> 
> Duty will always call, but even second-hand slices of a mostly normal life can make life a little better.

Lunafreya knew when things were wrong. She knew it was wrong when Ravus’s slip into silent melancholy morphed into him spending hours chatting with his guards. She knew it was wrong when her Imperial tutors would happily derail for hours about horticulture but became angry when she asked about Tenebraen history. She knew it was wrong when Niflheim announced her Oracle ascension as if it was brand new, four years after it had actually happened.

She had lived wrong, breathed wrong, rubbed elbows with wrong for so long now that when something was right, she could tell that easily.

So the last time she’d heard from Noctis – you see, while her Imperial captors might read all her mail, keep her leash very short, and only let her tour the world enough to keep the populace docile and content, they were powerless to prevent divine messengers from coming and going as they pleased. They’d tried with Gentiana, but that had ended badly for several MTs, a lieutenant, and one unfortunate maid who had the bad judgement to attempt to side with Niflheim. – he had sounded so content and happy and his laughter had all but dripped off the page as he told her of scratching around in trash bins and then painting a common wasp because he’d not done his homework, Luna knew as wrong as it sounded, it was exactly right.

She’d really had to work hard to not be envious of such normalcy. She was sure that King Regis would have been livid at the thought of Noctis procrastinating in such a way, but her mind kept drifting back to all the young people she’d seen on her short tours of good-will. Her own age and even younger, enjoying their lives, smiling, laughing. Even at twenty-one there were girls starting careers, or going on to college, or even starting families. It was hard to not feel left out of that.

Even as Oracle, her mother had hobbies and friends, went on shopping excursions and visited the seaside. And Gentiana, in her forbidden but unpunishable lessons about the Oracles who’d come before, had told Luna that there had even been one Oracle who had sat the Lucian throne for a time. They were free, her predecessors, in a way she would never know.

But such thoughts were not worth entertaining for long. There was exactly nothing she could do about her captive state. Her imprisonment was assured the same way her life was ensured. At least under Niflheim’s thumb, she could serve the people of Eos openly, even if it was not as much as they needed. And there was always the possibility that she might get to taste some of the normal things. The last tour, in the company of a Niflheim general, she had actually gotten to eat at a Crow's Nest Diner when local flooding had slowed their progress to a halt. It had been _heavenly_.

And besides all that, seeing how pleased, normal, and happy Noctis was these days brought her a sense of peace. A happy Prince could become a happy King with fond memories to look back on and long-serving, loyal retainers at his side when it was time for him to do his duty to the world. She could find no cause for alarm or concern in anything that he’d written to her and her relief at that was boundless.

He’d enclosed a set of pictures as well, and she had been pleased with them both, writing back that the Prince’s Shield was a monster of a man and reminded her very much of his father only with more hair (more everything, if she as being extremely honest. He appeared to be made of nothing but muscle and teeth, though perhaps the latter was just an unflattering angle) and wondering if the young Lord Scientia ever smiled.

She’d gone on perhaps longer than she should about the second picture in the pair. Noctis’s smile had warmed her heart, but the surprise of getting to _see_ Prompto Argentum, Pryna’s generous benefactor from so long ago, for the first time had been a bit overwhelming. She’d written back that he looked nothing like what she had imagined, declared him adorable, liked his freckles, and had ended her slight gushing with her pleasure over the fact that It was clear how much he loved Noctis both for how he tolerated the Prince’s slovenly homework habits and was grinning up at him in the picture like the Prince had hung the moon.

It was a week before she realized she must have said something very wrong in that letter. Usually that was about how long it took for Noctis to write back, and she had expected to hear from him, very likely with him confirming her assessment of his Shield, perhaps having further evidence of Lord Scientia’s smile (or lack thereof.) Maybe she would even get lucky and Noctis would have more tales to tell of his misadventures with Prompto. She’d been looking forward to something.

But a week passed in silence. Then another.

It was too much for her to bear. She knew well enough that there was nothing even remotely normal in her life, but the window that Noctis offered her into the world was a reliable bright spot. Even his notes full of complaining and annoyance were a break in the endless monotony of waiting for someone in Niflheim to decide that she could be allowed to leave and serve the people who relied on her. His letters were what kept her grounded and oftentimes informed in a round-about way of what was going on in the world.

Two weeks was too much.

It took several false starts, but she managed to get a normal letter written to him. The final version was much lighter than she felt, slightly fretful that he was too busy or in trouble with the King for slacking off his studies with a much shorter section than was honest about how she hoped that her last hadn’t offended him and she’d meant her teasing of his staff in jest only. She sealed it, tied it to Umbra’s back, and prayed to the Astrals that there would be some reply soon.

When Umbra returned with the notebook not a day later, Luna took a moment to be grateful that the Astrals hadn’t abandoned her (when she said this out loud, Gentiana gave her an unimpressed look over the top of the book she as reading, but Luna was too happy to be properly chastised.) But the letter this time was extremely short.

He assured her that he wasn’t offended, that his Shield really was that big and uglier than the pictures told, Lord Scientia did smile occasionally though he didn’t have any proof to offer. But no, Prompto didn’t love him and that was kinda out of left field, wasn’t it? And a smile was just a smile, nothing so serious as all that. Not every teenager did that whole love at first sight thing. He sure didn’t and Prompto was pretty sensitive, but he wasn’t stupid. They just liked each other a lot.

Luna read the short note through again, her forehead wrinkling as she tried to understand why it was that Noctis was so determined to correct her about Prompto, of all things. She flipped back a page in the notebook and looked at the pictures again, frowning as she studied them carefully.

In the past, when he had complained of his training being too strenuous or of his studies being too overwhelming, she had comforted him with the reminder that everyone around him only pushed him out of love driven by concern for his well-being, out of a desire for him to be prepared for the duties that lay ahead of him. He’d accepted it then, why was he so defensive – yes, that was it! He was defensive over the notion that Prompto would love and care for him as much as the rest!

But he obviously did. Luna knew well enough that the roles of the people around you – be they teachers or maids or friends – all did everything they did for you out of love. And if Prompto was capable of making Noctis as happy as he looked in this photograph and sounding as pleased as he had in his last letter, then Prompto was caring for his happiness out of love.

How was that different?

Luna looked up, about to ask Gentiana her opinion on the matter when Luna’s chamber servant came in with fresh linens for the bathroom. Seeing the woman arrive reminded Luna that she owed her an apology.

“Maria,” Luna stood and crossed the room to her as the woman stopped. “I’m sorry about the other day. I was upset, and it was wrong of me to blame you for putting that comb in the wrong place.”

“It’s all right, Lady Lunafreya. I knew you meant to ill-will by it,” Maria said with a chuckle.

“But it was still unfair of me and I know that. Will you forgive me?” Luna reached out and took the woman’s hand just as she had when she was a child.

“Of course, my dear,” Maria said with a gentle smile, her wrinkled hand clasping around Luna’s smooth one, squeezing gently. She would forgive Luna just about anything without her having to ask, but it was still comforting to Maria to know that Lady Lunafreya’s sweet nature remained intact, even if Master Ravus’s did not.

“Thank you, Maria.” Luna pressed a kiss to the older woman’s cheek and let her return to her work.

And Luna returned to her pondering over Noctis’s note. A picture was forming in her mind of a possible explanation. She’d read about it in books, of course. How people would deny something that was very true in an effort to keep it hidden. And her own experience with Maria – being snappish and unhappy, harping for much too long on how Luna had felt – seemed somehow relevant. A few minutes of quiet reflection had her sitting up very straight and blinking rapidly as she reached for a pen and write back.

 _Noctis, I am glad that you are not offended and I would love to see pictures of Lord Scientia smiling. I can’t help but wonder with as determined as you are to insist on_ only _liking Prompto, are the two of you dating? ~Luna_

A few days of waiting later – days filled with preparations for the Emperor had decided that it was time for her to make another appearance to the suffering people of Eos – Lunafreya slipped away from overseeing her packing to read the three pages of hemming and hawing that was Noctis answering her question in the affirmative without ever managing to come right out and say the word yes.

At first, she wasn’t sure how she felt about the fact that Noctis was dating. Part of her reacted immediately with the fact that he was far too young for such things but another part of her followed right behind with the fact that he was nearing 18 years old and was not a little boy any more. Still another part of her, much to her own chagrin, hoped that this Prompto person would endeavor to deserve Noctis’s affection and so help him if he ever so much as made Noctis frown….

She shook herself back to the present and wondered fleetingly if Ravus ever had such thoughts about her? Probably not, she sighed to herself. He was too busy with Imperial Military Career Networking to fret over her.

That evening, as she wrote back to Noctis telling him of her upcoming travels and apologizing if letters the next few weeks were short due to time constraints, she admonished him gently.

 _I hope that you do not think me a nosy busybody, asking about your relationship with Prompto. Much like those who surround you there, my only concern is for your well-being. I am so happy to know that there is someone in your life, not put there by royal commission, who brings you joy and laughter. Your Shield and your Advisor are true and loyal friends, but I know you have struggled with friendship for the sake of your position alone. I know that_ whatever _it is you and Prompto feel for each other, it is born of something beyond that and I know because it is written on both of your faces. Be well, Noctis. Write soon._

_~Luna_


	21. Swing My Heart Across The Line

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Noctis wants Prompto to be happy. But sometimes, being a Prince gets in the ay of that more than it helps.

“This sounds stupid even in my head,” Noctis whispered as he leaned over the towards Prompto, “But if you don’t go over there and talk to her, I’m going to trip you the next time you get up so you land in her lap.”

Prompto’s eyes got as big as dinner plates and he all but choked on the drink of water he’d just taken. “W-Wh-WHAT?” He sputtered and that came out a lot louder than he’d intended, so the shade of pink that his cheeks were sporting quickly deepened into a really unattractive shade of red and Prompto kicked Noctis under the desk.

“You keep staring at the new girl and she keeps smiling at you. Go talk to her or I’ll plant your face in her lap.” Noct snorted a little at the visual and elbowed Prompto in the ribs. Final year of high school, last chance to have anything even remotely like free time for probably the rest of his life, and he’d be damned if he was going to spend the first day of it listening to Prompto heaving sighs over a pretty girl.

It was his last first day too, after all.

“You know I’m not doin’ that, man.” Prompto could feel the heat in his face crawling up into his hairline. What in the hell was Noct playing at here?

“Why not?”

Prompto frowned, then frowned more when he realized that Noct was serious.

Noct waited for Prompto to reply, but when all he got was a blank look, he sighed. “You’ve been staring at her for the past half-hour. Go say hi, introduce yourself, and I don’t know.” Noctis made a vague gesture with one hand, “As what he favorite color is? It can’t be that hard.”

Not that he would know, having never had a lot of interest in dating. Sure, he and Prom were a thing, but he hadn’t had to ask Prompto out or do any of that weird stuff like bumbling through introductions or spending time figuring out that that both hated anchovies and could burp the alphabet if they drank enough soda.

Probably, now that he was thinking about it, girls weren’t be all that impressed by either of those things. But then again, who knew? Some of the women in the Crownsguard reveled in getting downright filthy and he knew, for a fact, that the Black Mages were no joke when it came to steak eating competitions.

How somebody who stood five foot nothing could devour nine Behemoth steaks and not die was a mystery he as willing to never learn. He’d been content to watch Gladio have his ass handed to him for once.

But this was different because this was Prompto. Who spent a lot of time looking at the girls around him – he seemed to have a soft spot for blondes – and never actually doing anything about it. Noct didn’t meddle because he got that Prompto never knew what to say when he was nervous and tended to say all the wrong things when he tried and that really embarrassed him. But how could he ever learn to get past that if he didn’t try? And now, with the end of school in sight and with Luna’s most recent letter still fresh in his mind, he knew he wanted to do a better job at encouraging Prom than he had done before.

It was time for him to give something back. Which sounded really haughty in his head but it was pretty much what he felt about the situation. Prom made him happy and he wanted Prompto to be happy too. Which he was sure he could be if he’d just _try_.

“Time a-wastin’, man.” Noct gestured again, “If you don’t go now you aren’t going to get another chance until this afternoon.”

Prompto’s face started to crumple in confusion the more Noct talked. “You want me to… just go…?”

“Say hi? Do whatever it is you do before you ask somebody out?” Noctis provided with a shrug of one shoulder. “Uh, yes? What kind of friend would I be if I didn’t?”

But instead of moving, Prompto just sat there still, looking at Noctis for a few moments before looking down at his hands in his lap, the blush slowly fading from his cheeks as the seconds ticked by, lacing his fingers together, then apart, then twisting them around, which was the universal sign for Prompto Is Worried.

Noct sighed again and tried one last time as he stared at the clock. “In four minutes the teacher is going to arrive and you’ll either be one step closer to a date with her or you’ll still be sitting here. Which is it gonna be?”

Prompto sat still as a stone, his head down, the sides of his hair swinging forward to hide his pink cheeks. Noct flopped backwards in his seat as they ticked over the two minute mark and gave it up for lost. Prom was a great guy, generous, nice, funny, and basically perfect. But he was just way too shy for his own good.

**

Noctis slumped through the door to his apartment, only perking up a little when the smell of pasta hit his nose. He toed off his shoes and ditched his coat at the door, leaving his bag in a lump as he shuffled to the kitchen.

“Hey,” he greeted Ignis as he slid onto a barstool and laid his head on his crossed arms.

“Difficult day?” Ignis inquired, glancing at Noctis as he gave the pot another stir. “You’ll be pleased to know that your father has decided to release you from your part-time job obligation. Of course,” he added thoughtfully, “It will mean more official duties.”

Noct had known that was coming soon and didn’t react.

Ignis let the silence linger for a while before asking, “Did Prompto have other plans tonight? I was surprised when he wasn’t here when I arrived.”

“I guess,” Noctis answered, annoyed that his irritation was showing in his voice.

Something about this situation seemed very off to Ignis. “Did the two of you quarrel?” He turned, watching Noct’s motionless form as he asked. It was unusual for the two to have any cross words with each other, and generally when they did they were quick to make up.

“No.”

Ignis narrowed his eyes at the flat answer and let it go at that. He knew Noctis well enough to know that whatever was on his mind was going to come out of his mouth with a silence to fill. Prodding would only make him clamp down more, feeling cornered and afraid. Particularly if what _was_ bothering him was something to do with Prompto.

It took less time than Ignis expected and came as he was spooning sauce onto a generous portion of noodles.

“I think I said something that made him unhappy. He’s been avoiding me all day. We were supposed to go check out topics for our quarter term projects after school, but he made up some line about having to be somewhere else and ran off before I could say anything. I dunno what I did and I can’t figure it out.” Noctis accepted his dinner with a frown and a nod of thanks, but only twirled noodles around his fork and looked miserable instead of eating.

“Have you asked him?” Ignis took a seat next to Noct.

“I didn’t get a chance,” Noctis huffed. “Every time I started to talk to him today, he disappeared on me. Didn’t reply to my texts either.” Noctis shoved a meatball around in the pile of sauce and leaned on his fist. “Just wish I knew what happened.”

That would be helpful and Ignis knew enough to know that a sensitive person like Prompto would be both easy to hurt and difficult to talk to after the fact. Ignis suppressed an eyeroll at the needlessly complicated situation and asked evenly, “When did all this start?”

Noct pulled himself upright, the lure of pasta, cheese, and sauce finally too great to resist. He considered the question as he spun noodles on to his fork and took a bite. “At lunch. I stayed inside and he decided to go out. I’d kinda thought he was going to ask this new girl out but she stayed in too.”

“Don’t talk with your mouth full,” Ignis said on autopilot before blinking as he asked, his voice struggling to remain neutral, “Noct, why would Prompto ask anyone out?” This conversation had just taken a strange turn and smelled strongly of a can of worms that Ignis both did not want to open but knew he had to.

Noctis gave Ignis a long-suffering look and nearly lost a meatball in the process. “Because they kept looking at one another like puppies? Seriously, cute little smiles, he blushed. It was adorable and disgusting at the same time.”

Ignis was unable to do anything more than just sit there, staring at Noct for a long time. Long enough that Noctis noticed it, shrugged, and became uncomfortable with the amount of scrutiny he was under.

“What?”

“Noctis,” Ignis’s voice was pitched gentle, quieter than usual, and he was pronouncing every word carefully. Noct knew that voice. Noct hated that voice. “You and Prompto have been dating for quite some time now.”

“Duh, Iggy,” Noct gave Ignis a sidelong glare that he meant to be a warning against using that same ‘hopeless-child’ voice.

It didn’t work. Ignis continued with the utmost patience and calm, “Then why would he ask someone else for a date?”

Now it was Noct’s turn to suffer. He sighed, not believing that it was possible for someone as smart as Ignis to need this explained to him. Not after Noct had been scarred for life after an inconvenient dead battery led him to unlocking Ignis’s phone only to be greeted with a Moogle image search for ball-gags.

Noctis had not been the same ever sense.

“Because they obviously liked what they saw? We’re dating Ignis,” Noct added with no attempt to hide his disdain for ho thick Ignis was acting, “I don’t own him.”

And Ignis was still giving him that look. How was this so hard to understand? Noctis shifted in his seat and sat up straighter. “Listen, Igs. I know you are in to some weird stuff,” Noctis willed himself not to have that mental image of gags and ropes and well shit it wasn’t working so he pressed forward, “But just because Prom and I go to the arcade and to movies and do all this dating stuff doesn’t mean I have any right to decide what he gets to do with his life.”

Ignis raised one eyebrow and inclined his head a bit to one side.

“You still don’t get it? Fine,” Noctis slapped one hand on the counter top and looked Ignis square in the face, hoping he wasn’t too red in the face. He just could not believe that he was having this conversation with Ignis of all people. Wasn’t this guy supposed to be _smart_?

“Listen, I want Prompto to be happy. He’s my best friend, we’ve got all the right stuff in common. He wants to go to a movie, we go because I want him to be happy. He wants to go sightseeing around town to take pictures of stuff that’s already on a thousand postcards? We go because it’ll make him happy. And yeah,” Noctis knew he was red now, “He wants to stay here and make out for hours, we’re gonna do that and if he wants me to suck him off then I’m down for that cause he enjoys it and it makes him happy.”

Saying that last part felt like some kind of out-of-body experience, like his entire soul had sailed right out the top of his head just to escape the reality of saying those words to Ignis. It came crashing right back down again when Noct considered the fact that at least it was Ignis and not, like. His dad.

 _That_ idea had his brain puckering up like it’d just taken a drink of the ‘lemon fresh’ toilet cleaner they used at school. Gaaaaaaaaah. Nope. He needed to get back on track.

“And if he sees a pretty girl and wants to do… whatever with her then who am I to stop him? I want him to be happy.” Noctis was panting a little after that whole speech, his heart racing and his chest tight and his brain still reeling from the idea of trying to explain any of this to his father as Ignis still just stared at him and blinked slowly.

It felt like an eternity, under Ignis’s intense gaze. Noctis met his eyes for as long as he could stand it, finally looking away when it was just too much judgement for him to stand.

“I realize,” Ignis began after Noct looked away, “that your upbringing as the Prince of Lucis has given you some rather unrealistic expectations in regards to driving laws, personal privacy, and the perceived function of government versus the actual day to day runnings of it, but I had no idea that the gaps in your understanding extended so far as this.”

Noctis’s head snapped back up and he opened his mouth to deny whatever it was that Ignis was implying, only to be silenced with a steely look and an upraised hand.

“Your family history can’t honestly be told for a single generation without some unconventional relationship coming in to play. From the Rogue to the Mystic all the way down the line to your grandparents and indeed to His…”

“IGNIS…!”

Ignis raised his voice over Noctis’s, “… Majesty himself, royal marriages made for love have been the exception rather than the rule. However, I am shocked that you don’t seem to realize that most people tend to take relationships – yes, Noct even dating relationships – much more seriously than you do.”

“I do take Prompto seriously,” Noctis defended hotly. “If you’d been listening, you’d…”

“Prompto is not royalty, Noctis,” Ignis said quietly, countering Noct’s temper with his own calm. “His expectations for romance are very likely grounded in the understanding that when you are seeing someone, particularly if the relationship is a sexual one, that is the only person you are seeing at all.”

Noctis just stared at Ignis now, trying to understand what he was saying. Yeah, yeah. The expectation for the Lucis Caelum line was pretty simple; marry wisely, produce an heir, job done. Even in the families that held enough status to even consider marrying into Caelum it was understood that so long as both parties got along reasonably well (and managed to trot out a kid or two) whatever (or whoever) else they wanted to do was fair enough.

It was talked about in the family histories, whispered about by the long-time servants, and everyone in the Crown City knew that Regis’s younger sister had only been a half-sibling and had no claim to the throne at all because King Mors wasn’t her father.

Aunt Matilda had been great though. Noct missed her.

“So wait,” Noct asked, his entire face frowning as he took this new information in. “You’re telling me that all that stuff in those movies Gladio likes? All that stuff about people getting upset and crying over cheating,” Noctis punctuated the word with air quotes, “Is real?”

Ignis nodded and slurped a noodle.

“Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

Noctis was silent for a very long time after that, pasta getting stone clod as he sat there staring off into the void that seemed to suddenly have opened up just above the range hood over the stove. Ignis ate in silence, letting Noctis process this new wealth of information.

And a wealth of it was. Noct’s mind turned it over and over, twisting around everything that he thought he knew about how dating worked, everything that he’d seen and dismissed because he just hadn’t been interested. Everything that he’d heard but didn’t try to understand because it’d seemed like so much fiction to him.

Eventually, Ignis picked up their plates and washed them, boxing up the leftovers and putting a sticky note on top of the box with reheating instructions. As he was pulling his coat on in the entryway, there was a scrape, a crash, and Noctis appeared a fraction of a second later, socks sliding on the wood floor as he skidded into Ignis before twisting and landing with a thud on the bench.

Ignis yelped, but stood back as he watched Noct pull his shoes back on, not bothering to untie and retie them properly. “Come to a conclusion then?” Maybe he sounded a little bit smug but how could he not be when he got to be a small part of Noctis learning new things?

“I fucked up bad, didn’t I?” Noctis turned his bag upside down, rummaging for keys and ID card and bus pass.

“I would say so,” Ignis agreed.

“So I gotta go make it right again, right?” Noct jerked the door open and gave a cry of triumph as he found his keys still dangling from the lock on the outside.

“That would be wise if you wish to keep him.”

“He’s not an object, Ignis. You don’t keep people.”

“Best go explain that to him then. And Noct,” Ignis called down the hall at the retreating prince. “Don’t use modern examples! That’s a security breach!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like Noctis, for all his careful education and genuine good nature, is just going to miss some things as he's growing up. And we all have to make an ass of ourselves in order to learn sometimes. Don't be too angry with him. They will be fine.
> 
> Noct is almost 18 in this one and Prompto is of course just a few months behind him.


	22. Hope is Our Four Letter Word

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Noctis explains. Then apologizes. Then screws up again. Prompto loves him anyway.

Prompto let out one last sniff and gave Noctis a damp sideways look. “I was almost willing to believe you ‘til you said that.” The weak smile that he offered up was a shadow of his usual, but at least with Noct, he didn’t have to pretend to be okay when he wasn’t. Well, when it was a big deal and he’d been crying he didn’t. 

Not like he could have hidden it anyway. Noct had started banging on his door when he was halfway through a bag of nacho cheese chips and sharp cheddar dip and starting on his third Jetty’s. There was no time to hide the empty pizza box either so Prompto had just had to accept the fact that Noctis was going to know he was eating his feelings again. 

And who cared? At least that’s what he’d told himself in the few minutes that it took to lead Noct through the hall and into the living room. Whatever Noct wanted it served him right to see that Prompto wasn’t okay. It was his fault anyway. 

At least that was what the tiny little rebellious voice in his head told him. But that same voice had been the one that had told him and everything pizza  _ with  _ anchovies was a great idea, and make that a stuffed crust, extra garlic butter, and a side or hot wings. Same voice too that had encouraged him to scarf down every last bit of that in one sitting. So maybe that voice wasn’t exactly the voice of reason and logic.

But it didn’t matter because all it took was for Noct to start talking, launching into some strange story about how his great-to-the-millionth-degree grandfather had forgotten than he needed an heir until he was nearly seventy before he finally did more than talk to his wife over dinner.

That had the effect of completely confusing Prompto for the ten minutes it took Noct to ramble his way through that story so all thinking was off. Because what did that have to do with anything?

“What,” Prompto had asked, his mouth in a crooked line and open a little bit, “in the hell are you talking about?”

Noct had blinked and dropped himself onto the chair across from Prompto in his nest of junk food, looking as baffled as Prom felt. 

“Cause that’s nice and all, and good job King Whoever He Was for procrastinating, but why did I need to know that?”

Noct just blinked at him, vague at first then a little annoyed looking, then a lot annoyed looking. “Because that was fine,” he said haltingly, saying each word very carefully.

Prompto shrugged a little bit, eyes wide and still as lost as he was asto why Noctis was here at all - it seemed a pretty clear breakup when your boyfriend (or whatever they were. Had been. Whatever!) is encouraging to ask somebody else out.

That thought set his lower lip to betraying him as much as his dinner choices did. But he wasn’t going to cry again. Not in front of Noct. Not here, not now, not ever. Why he hadn’t cared at all before had suddenly flared up into stupid pride, he was in no mood to consider because he was too busy biting down on his lip to keep it from quivering.

Of course it didn't work. Of course Noct saw it and tried to hug him. Of course Prompto didn’t want to go there, not after such a weird, heartless breakup not even 12 hours before. But of course he did. And in the end he was glad he did because between his hiccups, Prompto learned something about the royal family that he didn’t expect but wasn’t really all that surprised about.

He learned that they were a bunch of weirdos.

That wasn’t completely fair and Prompto was all for everybody doing their own thing provided nobody got hurt, but somehow, the fact that the long and illustrious line of Lucian Kings only had a nodding acquaintance with romantic fidelity and were all seemingly fine with this to the point of Noct not even realizing there was any other way to be really was mind-blowing. And it’d been that way for ages!

“No joke,” Noct’s smile was back in place now and he was sitting shoulder to shoulder with Prompto now, stealing his last drink of Jetty’s and looking around for a napkin to wipe the cheese off his fingers. “She had a twin, the Crystal chose her over him and she was pissed. So, she flat refused to get hitched, wouldn't go to balls or parties at all, and they say that her lesbian orgy’s were loud enough to reach town. Still don’t have a clue how she managed to have a kid, but she did.”

Prompto stared at him for a long minute, scrubbing his eyes and taking this in. “So I guess she was the Rogue in more than one way, huh?”

Noct pressed his lips together and gave Prompto a knowing nod. “Yeah. And like, you’ve seen the pics of my Aunt Tilly?”

Prompto nodded, his eyes getting bigger by the second. 

“Yeah, there’s a reason she doesn’t look anything like my dad.” Noctis arched an eyebrow and Prompto let out a squeak.

“I mean, it’s not that big of a deal. King Mors married kinda late like the past twelve of however many Kings have and he married well and they got along okay so it was cool. Nobody expected them to be in love or anything, so they had my dad like they were supposed to and went back to their lives.”

Noct shrugged, trying not to blush. Maybe Ignis had been right about not making this too modern. Too late now. “For my grandfather, that included going back to the woman he’d been with since he was like, twenty or something. Grandmother was fine with it because she had other stuff to do.”

“Dude, that sounds fake,” Prompto looked skeptical and gave Noct’s shoulder a shove. Seriously, who would be okay with that? But as soon as he had the thought he had a couple of others that put it in perspective. First, she was the Queen so she could pretty much do whatever she wanted. And second, at least half of the schools in Insomnia and the University were named after that Queen. So….

“Yeah, she was really into education.”

“Understatement of the century, Noctis,” Prom deadpanned. He wrinkled up his brown as he stretched, still trying to absorb how this was all supposed to relate back to him and Noct and now.

“So basically, you’ll eventually have to get hitched, right?” Prompto asked tentatively.

“Yeah.” Noct was so casual about it, shrugging a little as he tried to figure out how to best approach the last of the cheese dip in the can.

“And you’ll have to have a kid?”

“Probably?”

Prompto thought about that, letting the mental image of Noct with a baby form in his mind, then laughing out loud. “You’d be the worst dad! You sympathy-barf already!”

Noctis paused long enough to give Prompto a cold stare over top of the cheese can, his tongue stretching carefully as he tried to lick the last of the dip out.

“C’mon. You wouldn't know what to do with a diaper.”

“And I won’t have to,” Noctis declared. “There’d be a whole staff just to take care of the kid.”

Prompto snorted, amused at Noctis’s solution but mostly amused by the bright orange moustache that he was sporting from his face-dive into the cheese.

Prompto then subsided, fidgeting with his hands in his lap. Noctis didn’t miss that either and pounced on it, “What is it?”

“Well, I mean.” He flailed a little bit and tilted his head to the side, trying to come up with the words. “Where. How. Do you…?” He gave up, coming to a full stop as his shoulders slumped in defeat.

Noctis watched him for a few minutes, trying hard to piece together what Prompto was trying to say. He ran through again what Ingis had said, forcing himself to remember that this was not the normal state of stuff for Prompto and desperate to not mess up any more than he already had. Maybe….

“Where does that leave us?” Noct tried.

“Yeah,” Prom sighed. It wasn’t exactly what he wanted to say, but how did you put into words that you just wanted someone to tell you what you were supposed to do so they would keep liking you? And without it sounding like you were desperate and miserable, even though you really were desperate and miserable.

Noct took a deep breath and blew it out. “I dunno. Where does it?”

Prompto looked over at Noctis, confusion crinkling the corners of his eyes again. 

“Cause I want you to be happy. And if it’d be fun for you to go out a pretty girl, then I think you should do that.”

Prompto tried to process this around the fresh hurt of hearing those words again. It still felt like Noct was saying that he didn’t want him or that Prompto was not good enough or was boring or something. And the food baby that he was currently carrying just mocked him from it’s pouch. He should’ve just changed into his sweats when he got home. Maximum gross bum status seemed appropriate.

But Noctis was talking again and as much as he didn’t want to listen, Prompto couldn't just tune him out. Noct might now want him anymore, but for Prompto, he was still the best friend he had.

“I mean, I’m pretty much a sure thing,” he shrugged, tugging at his ear nervously, “And I’m not going anywhere. I just…”

Noctis trailed off and Prompto tried to take this all in yet again. Was Noct saying what he thought he was saying? Was he actually  _ not  _ trying to break up with him? Prompto felt like his brain was trying to run cross-country in a hamster wheel. A few minutes of silence would have been really good right about then. A few minutes of silence and some antacids, if he was going to go for the ideal situation.

Noct sighed again and put a hand on Prompto’s knee before he said, “I don’t want you to feel stuck. Cause I know that eventually, I’m gonna have to get hitched but that’s not for a long time.” He snorted then, “Dad didn’t marry mom ‘til he was nearly 30, and I can probably push that back even longer if I want to. And unless you grow some janky facial hair or start wearing socks with sandals….”

Noct trailed off then and Prompto hope that he would finish that (maybe even with something like ‘I want you to be there with me’) but he didn’t. Typical Noct. But even if he didn’t finish it, he’d somehow calmed down that anchovies-soda-and-pity voice in Prompto’s head.

“I don’t. I’m not stuck, I mean. Well,” he thought for a second, “Not any more than I want to be. It just seems kinda weird.”

Noctis thought about this for a while as Prompto stood up and started tidying up the mess in the living room. Yeah, it probably did seem weird to Prompto, but it seemed really weird to him too. “Maybe there’s some kind of middle ground? A compromise?”

In response, Prompto just blinked. 

“I know,” Noct beamed, a light bulb practically going off over his head as he perked up and followed Prompto to the kitchen. “I’ll be your wingman!”

Prompto would have laughed if the idea hadn’t been so stupid. And his face must have said that without him having to open his mouth because Noctis rushed ahead.

“No, listen. You see a cute girl. You’re wanting to get in on some of that action, right.”

“I don’t want to get in on any of that action though.”

Noct stared him down until Prompto’s face went pink to his hairline. “Prompto.”

“I don’t!”

“You do. Stop lying.”

Silence stretched between the two of them or a long time and eventually Prompto caved in with a groan. “I don’t want to get in on it though! Thinking about it isn’t wanting it!”

“Yeah whatever. Keep telling yourself that. Anyway,” Noctis rolled his eyes, “No girl in her right mind is going to turn down talking to me, the Crown Prince of Lucis. So I go over, say hi, be stupid and dumb and you swoop in and rescue the damsel in distress from my bumbling.”

“Dude, I do that already,” Prompto snorted.

“I know, that’s why it’s perfect.” Noctis beamed again. “You go out with her, come back and tell me all about it and I get to live vicariously through you.”

“Noct,” Prompto said, leaning on the countertop, “That makes no sense.”

“Why not?” Noctis thought it was a perfectly reasonable idea and his offended tone said as much.

“Because you have no interest in dating any of these girls,” he pointed out. “Frankly, I’m not even sure that you like girls.”

“Yeah, but you do. Which means that if you are going on all these dates, I’ll get to sleep in, you’ll be all blushy and giggly and sappy when you get back, and that will lead to more cuddles for me. Perfect. Plan.”

Prompto tried really hard to find the flaw in this ‘perfect plan’ but he was coming up empty. It still sounded like a trap, but he had no idea how. And Noctis had never trapped him before, so why would he start now? Prompto came up empty on that one too. “I still dunno.”

Noctis slid over and bumped his hip into Promptos. “Listen, if you don’t want to that’s fine. Just say so. Like I said, I want you to be happy and not stuck.”

Prompto let out a breath he hadn’t known he was holding and with it went a very real fear that he didn't even have words for. He surveyed Noct’s face carefully as he said, “Yeah, I’d rather not,” a whole lot more casually than he really meant and at the smallest flicker of disappointment from Noctis, he rushed to add, “Not right now at least. I mean,” Prompto shrugged, “You only just told me how this works.”

Noctis glaced at Prompto and nodded again. “Fair enough. And. Uh.” He was getting a little pink again and Prompto couldn’t completely hold back a smile at the sight. “I’m sorry. For earlier. I just didn’t know.”

His uneven shrug and the fact that he was looking at his shoes as he said it made Prompto think that Noct was pretty embarrassed at this particular gap in his knowledge. He was under so much pressure, and it seemed like it was getting worse every day. Noct had almost no time that was his own anymore.

“It’s okay,” he assured Noctis, throwing an arm over his shoulder and planting a loud kiss on his cheek. “Just think about it like this: now you know how I feel hearing that HRM is rolling in the lovin’.”

He’d meant it as a joke, maybe to get a groan out of Noctis, maybe a shove and a gag. What Prompto did not expect was for Noctis to plunk out, as casual as you please, “Nah, he’s barely got time for Clarus, let alone a harem.”

The look that he gave Prompto as soon as the words were out of his mouth was the mirror image of stunned horror that Prompto was sure was painted across his own face. “Dude…,” Prompto breathed after a few second of heavy silence. “Did you j….,”

“YOU HEARD NOTHING!”


	23. There's Only Butterflies

Noctis sighed to himself and tried to make his way, yet again, to the punch bowl. However, as usual, everyone was in his way and wanted to talk to him. Another round of uncomfortable and mostly one-sided conversations and he managed to excuse himself only to get caught by someone else. 

He supposed he should be grateful for any amount of forward motion, but it as hard to feel gratitude when his throat was so dry it felt like he’d swallowed sandpaper. And now, to add another layer of difficulty, his dad was trying to get his attention from across the room. Ugh!

Well, the old man could wait. Noct turned, pointedly ignoring his father’s gesture in favor of the punch bowl that was finally within reach. It wouldn’t last long, so he was aiming to get a couple of cups of the stuff in him before Clarus sent Gladio to fetch him. 

He didn’t quite manage it, but then again it wasn’t Gladio who turned up. It was Iris, his younger sister, looking a whole lot older than she was.

“Hey, Noct,” she greeted with a smile and a small wave. “Dad sent me to come get you. King Regis wants you.”

“Hey, Iris. I noticed.” Noct stood still however and Iris shifted a little in place. “Nice haircut.” Was she blushing or was that makeup? What was a kid doing wearing makeup anyway? And wow, did he sound old or what?

“Thanks. At first, I wasn’t so sure about it.”

“Nah, it’s good,” Noct said with an appraising frown. “Makes more sense than that shaggy dog look Gladio’s got going on.”

Iris stifled a giggle behind her hand and nodded, “Who told him mullets were in?”

Noct snorted into his cup, “I know, right?”

Noctis liked Iris. Yes, she was a lot younger than he was, but she could hold her own and, most importantly to him, wasn’t a chore to be around. She did normal things like play video games and fluff her school essays and didn’t bring up all the royal stuff. Plus, it was fun to watch her and Gladio argue with each other because the big guy  _ never  _ won against her. Ever.

“What’s my dad wanting?” He asked as they both filled cups again. 

“You to dance,” she said evenly. “I think that he thinks you need to be mixing more.”

“I mixed for twenty minutes trying to get a drink,” Noct complained under his breath and Iris looked at him with sympathy. He sighed. 

One more glass and they both made their way back across the room to where the King and his Shield were standing. Iris bowed to the King before returning to her father’s side and Noctis just waited.

“Noctis,” the King began, “I know that you do not enjoy these events.”

“You can say that again,” Noctis mumbled.

Regis somehow managed to not roll his eyes and continued, “But I would like to see you make more of an effort to mingle.” regis stopped there, not wanting to criticize his son for his obvious discomfort or his awkwardness with the assembled dignitaries. Those things were a matter of time and experience, but he would not get the experience if he did not  _ try _ .

When Noctis failed to respond and just stood there, looking at the King, he finally tried again. “Why don’t you ask someone to dance?”

Noctis was very bad at hiding his opinion of the suggestion and Regis attempted to make it better by adding, “It’s really not that difficult.”

“Then why aren’t you dancing?” Noctis returned. “And don’t give me that line about your leg, that’s just an excuse.”

Regis was momentarily taken aback partly by the cheek of his son and partly because that was the most Aulea thing he’d heard from Noctis in months. Paternal pride and royal decorum warred in his mind and he decided to come down in the middle.

“Yes, but who would possibly want to dance with a doddering old man?” Regis couldn't quite stop himself from smiling indulgently as he spoke.

“Since that doddering old man is the King of Lucis, I’d guess just about anybody,” Noctis shot back, pressing his lips together to keep from grinning back. Ah the old man wasn’t so bad, sometimes. Noctis cast a quick glance around to see if they’d been overheard and was greeted with Clarus fighting the good fight against morth and Iris losing ground quickly, looking at the floor with her shoulders shaking. 

“I’d even go so far as to guess that even Iris here wouldn't turn you down, Your Majesty.”

And just like that, Noctis learned that much like her father and older brother, Iris had the best anak-in-the-headlights look he’d ever seen. Clarus’s was actually the best of the three just because it was so ridiculous on a man his age, but Iris’s was pretty gratifying in that moment. Her face went pale, then her cheeks got pink, all while her mouth was hanging open and her eyes were the size of the useless gold charger plates that only existed to sit under the actual plate you ate off of. It was great.

Regis lifted one eyebrow and looked between his son and the young teenage daughter of his Shield. She was as dear to him as any daughter could be, as good natured as her father and light years smarter than her father and brother combined. Smarter, at least, in terms of having a very good idea of what was happening just under the surface and a champion eavesdropper. 

“I doubt it too, but my dance card is filled for the night,” an outright lie, but he was allowed to lie. Paternal privilege, Kingly right, and all that. “Your’s, however, is not. Lady Iris, would you be so kind as to dance with my son?”

Regis held out a hand to Iris who took it because you don’t just refuse the King even if you are his best friend’s kid, and nodded, “Of course, Your Majesty.” In a daze, she allowed herself to be handed off to Noctis who rolled his eyes so hard before leading her to the dance floor that Iris had to giggle.

“He’s such an ass,” Noct groused.

“Noct!” she scolded, snickering as she regained her wits, “He’s just trying to help.”

“I don’t need help, I need a snack.”

“So do I. So let’s kinda dance that direction. Who’s leading?”

“Is anybody gonna notice if you do?”

“Probably not. This skirt hides my feet.”

“Then you do it.”

__

Clarus put his head to one side and said, “That almost failed miserably.”

Regis hummed and nodded, “But it didn’t. I am glad they get along, even so young as they are.”

“A lot of that has to do with their personalities. Prince Noctis, for all of his challenges,” Clarus and Regis exchanged raised eyebrows at the word, “Is very patient and kind.”

“And Iris, while stubborn and exacting,” the pair snorted in tandem at Regis’s understatement, “is generous and seems to not have a cruel bone in her body.”

Clarus nodded and watched their children quietly for a few moments. “If they can be friends now it will make any future arrangements much easier on them both.”

Regis shifted in his seat and nodded in agreement. “I think it is wise, however, to keep those under our hats for now. Noctis does tend to startle easily over long term plans, and Iris is still so very young.”

“Most definitely,” Clarus agreed quickly, then sighed. “She is so young, but looking at her now, I feel so old. Regis, how is my baby girl already fourteen? How is high school happening now?”

“I ask myself the same thing every time I realize that the next celebration in Noctis’s honor will be his coming of age. Where has the time gone, I wonder?”

__

 

“You are officially hired to be the person I dance with at all these stupid parties from now until we are too old to stand up on our own,” Noctis declared as another careful turn around the dancefloor brought them within smelling distance of the buffet tables. “You sure dance a lot better than Gladio.”

Iris chuckled, “Well of course I do. He used to skip all his dancing lessons in favor of going and punching things and I am a perfectly well-behaived child who only does as she’s told.”

Now it was Noctis’s turn to laugh. “Yeah, so now you are fired because lying like that’ll make Ramuh throw lightning at you and I can’t risk my hair getting fried.”

“It’s got enough gel in it that there’s be no difference.”

“Hey!”

Iris smiled and stepped back as the music ended, bowing politely to Noctis as was expected in public and taking his arm even though he hadn’t offered it. Steering him in the direction of the food, she added, “That stuff is like insulation. Even Ramuh’s worst storms don’t stand a chance.”

Noct shook his head and handed her a plate. “You’re as bad as Gladio. Here, load up and we’ll sneak out to the balcony to eat.”

They both loaded plates with enough finger food to feed a couple of hungry Glaives and made a strategic retreat out onto the balcony that overlooked a courtyard where security patrolled in predictable patterns.

“So you realize,” Iris started around a cheese cube, “That King Regis did that on purpose, right?”

Noct peeped over the edge of the railing and finding the coat clear, he shoved his shrimp shells overboard to land in the flower beds. “Did what?”

“Noct that’s gross. Litterbug.”

“It’s organic. It’s good for the plants.”

Iris shook her head and got back to the subject at hand. “That whole dancing thing. He set that up on purpose.”

“He would, you know. He thinks I’m socially hopeless. No doubt I’ve got about six more people waiting on me right now.” Noct shrugged. So what if his dad wanted to arrange his dance partners for him. So long as Lady Ringdrathe’s oldest daughter wasn’t one of them, why should he care?

Iris blinked at him long enough for Noct to realize there was something he was missing. He pulled apart a sushi roll, dumping the cucumber and carrot on her plate and shoving the remains in his mouth before he asked, “What?”

“Come on, Noct. Don’t play dumb.” She nudged him with her elbow as he deposited more vegetables onto her plate. Did he really not know...?

Not that she wasn’t used to being the only person who really knew what was going on in lots of situations, but this really took the cake. When Noct shook his head and shrugged again, Iris prompted, “About us?” 

A blank look from Noct.

“Getting married eventually?”

Iris considered, as soon as the threat of Noct choking to death on a caviar-loaded cracker had passed, that maybe King Regis was right about him being a little socially inept. But just a little. It probably was a shock.

“What the…,” Noctis coughed one last time, “hell do you mean, getting married?” He was not going to panic. He was not going to panic. The thought never occurred to him that Iris might be lying because Iris was worse at lying than Gladio and he was abysmal at it. Of course she was telling the truth but this was the first he’d heard of this. Maybe there was some mistake? She was just a kid. Hell, he was still technically underage.

“Well obviously not for a long time. Dad would hit the roof if I didn’t finish college and you know that you’ve still gotta do your tour and stuff,” Iris handed him a napkin and tapped her cheek, indicating that he had something on his face. She sighed and shrugged, “I totally thought you knew that.”

“Uh, no?” Noctis scrubbed at his face with her napkin and gave her a long look. I mean, it made sense. It wasn’t like the Crown City was bursting with ‘eligible’ women, but Iris? Really? “How’d you even find out about this?”

Iris’s slightly amused expression faded to one of near contempt and she crossed her arms, “How do I know anything, Noct?”

He held up his hands in surrender, “Fair enough! I’m not asking again.” He stood there thinking this through for several minutes and to Iris’s credit, she didn’t interrupt his thoughts. 

It wasn’t such a far fetched plan, if he thought about it. Yeah, the age gap was kinda a big deal, but even he could realize that when he was thirty, she’d be 25. Both felt like a really long way off - they’d both be really old by then. That was what, eleven years from now? And eleven years ago he’d been what? Eight?

Astrals, that was a  _ lifetime  _ away.

“Does Gladio know?” The idea came to him in a rush and he hoped that he knew the answer.

“I don’t think so. I’ve never told him,” she said with a knowing look. “He’d flip his shit.”

“Language!” Noct pretended to act shocked, then dropped it and leaned against the railing, picking at his food again. “I dunno,” he admitted. “Seems kinda...weird?”

“Yeah,” she agreed with a nod. “I don’t get dad and King Regis talking about it now? There’s plenty of time.”

Noct nodded and knit his eyebrows together. “Yeah, but.” He paused for a second to figure out how to say what he was thinking. “So my mom and dad knew each other as kids, right? They were friends and stuff, so maybe that’s why?”

Iris considered this for a minute and added, “Yeah, and dad and my mother barely knew each other and we all know how  _ that  _ went.”

Noct didn't say anything in response because he didn’t know what to say. Everybody did know how that worked out because there was no way for everyone to not know. Clarus had married well, but they hadn’t known each other at all outside of social events and it had been a terrible match. Noct didn’t have all the details, but Clarus and Lady Amicitia had spent a long time miserable, then separated, then trying to make it work, then it all just fell apart and she had left. She hadn’t even asked for anything in the divorce - not even to visit their children. Afterwards, it was like she’d never existed. 

Gladio still didn’t talk about her, though he didn’t leave the room when someone mentioned their mom anymore. He’d been ten when she’d left and really, really angry. That much Noct did remember.

Iris broke his reverie with another nudge, “I  _ did  _ think you knew, you know. I’m sorry if telling you was not okay.”

“No,” he said, shaking his head and offering her a smile. “It’s fine. Just surprising. And, ah.” He shifted his weight on his feet and looked at the ground. “A little awkward cause. Well, you know.”

“Prompto?” Iris said, screwing up her face.

“Yeah.”

“That’s fine though,” she said with nod.

“You sure? I mean, if all this pans out…,” Noctis trailed off, hoping that she’d understand what he meant when even he wasn’t sure what he meant.

“Yeah. You guys come as a set. And if you’re still a set in ten or however many years, it’s not a big deal. Well, it won't be unless….”

Noctis tensed, “Unless what?”

“Unless he keeps bathing in his cologne? Cause I can’t stand the smell of it. It just…  _ wafts so much _ .” Iris made a retching noise and covered her face. “And it’s be all over you and just. Ugh!”

Noct frowned at her for a few seconds before he started to laugh. “You are fine with the idea of marrying a guy who’s dating a guy, but you nearly barf on your shoes over the smell of his body spray?” He laughed for another minute, holding his side before he slung an arm around her shoulders. “Six, Iris. You are the best.”

Iris blushed and gave him a shove. “Yeah, I know. But seriously, you don’t think it’s a little…?”

“Excessive? Yeah, I do. But so’s his obsession with anything pickled, but you take the fine with the gross, I guess.”

Just then the curtains parted and Cor stepped out onto the balcony with his second in command, Monica. Iris smiled at Monica who gave her a smile in return as Cor said, “Your Highness, King Regis has noticed your absence and is growing concerned.”

Noctis didn’t miss the note of command in the Marshal’s voice and sighed. “Looks like snacktime’s over,” he said as he gathered up their plates and Iris grabbed the napkins.

“Iris,” Monica stopped her as she was passing by, “You’ve got mustard on your dress.”

Iris made a sound of dismay and tried swiping at the spot with her napkin but it didn't help. 

“Here,” Noct shoved the dirty plates into Cor’s hands and returned to the edge of the balcony, leaning over and grabbing a bloom off one of the high-climbing vines before anyone could move to grab him. “This’ll do the trick if you’ve got a pin.”

No pins were available, but Monica worked a hairpin out of her hair and used that as a clip before shooing them both back inside. The pair dropped their plates and napkins off at the bussers station and made their way back across the room to the King again. 

“You know,” Iris said in an undertone as the skirted the edge of the ballroom, “Those two are an item.”

“Who?” Noct asked.

“Marshal Leonis and Lieutenant Elshett.”

Noctis stopped moving and just stared at Iris. “How do you know these things?” he demanded, exasperated.

Iris shrugged, the picture of innocence, “I’d like to know how you don’t. It’s glaringly obvious.”

Noct could feel his face heating up and shook his head, “Good grief.”

“Wanna make a bet? I’ve got twenty dollars that says they don’t come back in from that balcony for at least half an hour.”

“I can’t believe you.”

“So is that a wager?”

“Of course it is,” Noct confirmed and they continued on. “Does my dad know?”

“Who do you think told him?”

“Iris, you didn’t!”

Iris beamed at him and bit her lip to keep from laughing out loud. “I was really little at the time. King Regis gave me one of those good cookies he keeps in his desk drawer for telling him.”

“I feel so betrayed,” Noct scoffed around a laugh of his own that was threatening to erupt. “Those cookies were  _ our  _ secret.”

They were nearly back at the dais when Noct slowed down and asked, “With all these things that you seem to know, do you know where Ignis hides the holiday gifts?”

“There’s a false back wall in his entry hall closet. Everything that needs to stay out of sight is in there but I don’t know how he accesses it.”

“Iris,” Noct said in an even monotone, “you’re terrifying. I love it.”

Iris was still pink in the cheeks when they reached the King and her dad. Noctis really was really nice, she thought. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are nearing the end of this section of this story I think. But, there'll be more. I wanted to break this story into three distinct parts that would cover the time leading up to the beginning of the game, then more kind of skimming over the in-game things (because duh that's there and obvious), then covering World of Ruin, then a last section covering post-dawn stuff. At this point, Noctis is 19, Iris is 14, Cor 44, Monica 43, Regis is 49, Clarus 54. It's one year until the game-times start. I'm not sure about the chapters coming up, there may be one or two more in this section? We'll see.
> 
> Oh, and Iris won that bet because it was an hour and a half before Cor and Monica showed back up.

**Author's Note:**

> Here is a guide to help navigate through various stories and ships in this monster. Cause I know not everyone comes for the same things. Smut chapters are stand-alone with a little link out at the bottom of the previous chapter. Don't read those if they aren't your thing, none of them are necessary to the plot.
> 
> Collide: Cor/Monica. Chapters 1-4, 10, 11, 15,17  
> Dudes Being Bros v1.0: Chapters 5, 9, 15, 18  
> Almost Lover: Ignis/Gladio: Chapters 6-7, 9, 12  
> Don't Say Goodnight: Noctis, Prompto Chapters 8, 13-14, 16, 21-22  
> Unwritten: Iris: Chapter 19  
> The Oracle Road: Luna: Chapter 20


End file.
